


Letters

by Arctic_comet



Series: Phillip/Anne, canon-compliant fics [1]
Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Falling In Love, Love Letters, Mentions of Sexual Harassment, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Racism, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctic_comet/pseuds/Arctic_comet
Summary: How did it all start anyway? Anne and Phillip get to know each other through letters.
Relationships: Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler
Series: Phillip/Anne, canon-compliant fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808473
Comments: 41
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

A few days after starting at the circus, Phillip saw Anne Wheeler in her natural state for the first time, without the makeup and the wig, and she was even more stunning, if that was possible. He tried to guess at her age and guessed she could be a few years younger than him, but the age difference was small enough. _God, why was he even considering it? First he'd agreed to join the circus, and now this. Perhaps he was genuinely losing his mind._ He’d quickly caught onto his own reaction to her, knowing that whatever was brewing in him was already stronger than anything he’d ever felt for a woman before. It had taken him by surprise, but ignoring it didn’t seem like a feasible possibility. Sure, if he wanted a life without problems, he would make himself forget about her, but wasn’t this really the point of taking Barnum’s offer? _Living?_ How fast he’d been offered the perfect answer for his doubts. There was no way he could walk out now.

It was nothing short of miraculous, if he thought about it. As if it had all been planned ahead. Fate wasn’t something he believed in, but this felt an awful lot like it. He had to know if this was unrequited, or if perhaps she felt something, too. 

The appearance of two little girls brought him out of his thoughts and forced him to stop looking at Anne. 

“Mrs. Barnum,” he greeted the smiling woman trailing after the girls, recognizing her. 

“Mr. Carlyle, it’s a pleasure to see you here.”

“Please call me Phillip.”

“If you call me Charity.”

“Very well. Charity, lovely to see you. Who did you bring with you?” He asked, eyeing the girls who were now looking at him curiously.

“This is Caroline,” she motioned to the older girl, “And this is Helen.”

“Nice to meet you both, you can call me Phillip,” he said. 

“Don’t you work at the theater?” Asked Caroline, her eyes narrowing at him. 

“Well, I used to work on plays. Now I’m here to work with your dad.”

“What’s your favorite act?” Asked Helen.

“Wow, that’s an excellent question. You see, I’ve only been here for two days, so I don’t think I’ve seen all of them yet.”

“Then I’ll show you _my_ favorites!” Exclaimed the girl, taking his hand. 

“Oh, Phillip, please feel free to-“ began Charity.

“I think it’s a great idea. Thank you for the offer, Helen,” he replied, awed by the lack of reserve these girls had. At their age, he had been told to stand to the side and only speak when spoken to, while his parents discussed important- and usually tedious- matters with their equally tedious friends. He didn't mind following the girl out of the room to see God-knew which act. 

“Hey, wait for me!” Insisted Caroline.

For the next two hours he was dragged from room to room, seeing everything from the fire-swallowing man to the lion as well as Miss Lutz’s singing practice. The girls were relentless and energetic, and that was when he began to truly understand the magic of the circus. 

“So, which one of these would be your absolute favorite? You can only pick one act,” he said, assuming the tour was over.

“You haven’t seen my favorite yet,” answered Caroline slyly. 

Her little sister’s face was still scrunched up, the girl deep in thought. “I can’t pick one. I _love_ Lettie, but I also love-“ she started before being interrupted by her sister.

“Don’t tell him!” Ordered Caroline, covering Helen’s mouth with her hand. “It’s a surprise,” she clarified to him.

“All right. I’m sure it’s got to be good if you both love it so much.”

***

Anne nearly fell off the trapeze when she saw them approach. 

“What was that?” Asked her brother under his breath when they reached the ground.

“Nothing,” she muttered back before pasting a smile on her face for Barnum’s daughters.

There was something about Mr. Carlyle that had got to her the night she saw him for the first time, and the same thing had happened _again_ just now _._ It had to be the way he looked at her, his face open, his eyes made of the stuff for dreams. She’d dreamed of him that night, and again last night. In her dream he’d joined her in the air, the tricks nothing like the ones she did with her brother. Then he’d kissed her, stared into her eyes like she was the end and the beginning. 

“Helen, Caroline,” she greeted, waving at them. “Good afternoon, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Wheeler. It looks like the esteemed jury here has chosen your act as the most entertaining this circus has to offer,” he mumbled, nodding at the girls.

“Is that so? Well, W.D. and I are very honored,” she said, crouching to address the girls again.

“You should show Phillip what you do with the hoop,” Suggested Helen, whispering conspiratorially into her ear. 

“Do you think so?”

Helen nodded.

“If you insist... Mr. Carlyle, Helen is insisting I show you a part of my act. If you step a little closer, you’ll get a better view,” she explained, happy with how professional she sounded even when her heart was beating so hard her ears were ringing. She should have been more scared and less intrigued by the chance of having his full attention. There _was_ fear for sure, but not the kind that should have dominated her mind. It was fear of the things Phillip Carlyle could possibly be able to make her feel, and it was all _wrong_. _He was all wrong._

Releasing the ropes, she marched to the hoop and put some distance between herself and the ground. Starting the new solo routine that only W.D. and Barnum’s daughters had seen so far, she pushed all thoughts of a meaningless infatuation out of her head. _This was her world, this was where she was free, and where people were amazed by her._ If he happened to have the same reaction, it only made him one of them. _Nothing special._

Then she made an error in judgement, opening her eyes at the wrong time, and suddenly meeting _his._ He was too close, mere feet below her, maybe a few to the side. It was a tiny slip in focus, but it turned out costly, and she fell, luckily from only around ten feet. She heard squeals from the girls, and then she landed, but not on the floor. 

When Helen and Caroline began to shout excitedly and applaud, she realized where she was. Her entire body grew hot, now aware that Mr. Carlyle’s arm was under her knees, the other one behind her back. Before she got a good look at his face, he was setting her back on the ground.

“Nice catch,” she said, surprised she could manage to utter anything at all. 

“Uh, thank you,” he stammered, backing off from her, his face still full of surprise and _wonder_. The moment was over, and before catching herself, she even regretted it. 

“Please excuse us, girls,” she told the children before grabbing her brother’s arm and pulling him out of the room with her. 

***

Cursing, Phillip couldn’t fathom how he could possibly be so spectacularly bad at talking to a woman. It was as if he couldn’t even _think_ when she was expecting him to say something, like a normal human being. He was reduced to a blubbering moron in her presence, which would likely lead to her rightfully doubting his intelligence. 

If he wrote her just one letter and she didn’t respond or even strictly told him not to approach her in any way, surely that would help him move on and focus on his work?

It took him nearly two weeks to be happy with the letter. A lousy record for certain, especially for someone like him. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, even more to ask her, but if there was no interest on her part, then it was all moot. His plays were garbage, but at least they were garbage with demand and an audience. 

Now he only had to deal with the problem of how to give her the letter in a discreet manner. 

“Good morning, Miss Lutz,” he greeted their best singer. He found her easily approachable, her kind demeanor almost making him forget that most of the people there still looked at him with suspicion in their eyes. 

She flashed him a pleased grin. “Good morning, Mr. Carlyle. What brings you to me this morning?”

“I have a favor of a sort to ask, actually.”

Lettie raised her brows. “A favor? Tell me more.”

Fiddling with the envelope, he hesitated. _He could still change his mind._ But it wasn’t what he wanted, so he held it out.

“This is for Miss Wheeler. Would you please make sure she receives it?” 

The woman picked up the letter gently, turning it over in her hand, a sly smile forming on her lips. “I’m a curious woman and if it weren’t already obvious, I would insist on asking you what the meaning of this letter is, but there’s no need for that. I’ll give this to her.”

Blushing, Phillip bowed his head. “Thank you so much. If you ever need anything, please let me know.”

“I will, don’t you worry about that. I'm sure I can think of a way for you to return the favor."

As soon as Miss Lutz left to deliver the letter, Phillip found it impossible to concentrate on anything at all. _What would she think? Would she reply?_ He ended up having to go through the circus's ledgers thrice before he could make any sense of them. 

***

_Dear Ms. Wheeler_

_I hope you will not find this letter an unwelcome intrusion. In the case that you do, I hope you can forgive me and that we can still be on good terms as we work together. You may write me back if you wish, but it is not by any means expected._

_The reason I am writing to you instead of talking is the simple truth that my attempts at discussion with you so far have been poor and I hope to express myself more eloquently in writing._

_It is no secret that you have captivated me right from the very moment I saw you for the first time. I mean no harm by any of it, but I understand if you would wish for less attention from me._

_You will perhaps find this hard to believe, but I am happier now than ever before in my life. I certainly enjoy my work at the circus, but most of all I look forward to seeing you every day. I often feel out of my depth here, but when I look at you, I don’t feel as much of a misfit in this place._

_Best Regards_

_Phillip Carlyle_

Anne stared down at the letter in disbelief. It had been sitting on her dressing table when she came to prepare for the night’s show, and Lettie was grinning knowingly.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, but he asked me to deliver it,” said the older woman, confirming to Anne that the letter was indeed from Mr. Carlyle and that this wasn’t some cruel prank pulled by someone else.

“I- I don’t understand any of this,” she exhaled. 

“What is it that you don’t understand, honey? You’re a beautiful young woman and have caught the eye of a handsome young man. He was quite flustered when he asked me to bring it to you, so it seems real enough to me.”

“This is not supposed to happen.”

Lettie shrugged. “Not everything in life is planned.”

“I should get rid of this, before someone else finds it,” she murmured, trying to be sensible despite her racing heart. _Nobody had ever written her a letter like this._

“At least tell me what he said before you destroy it!” Exclaimed Lettie, the thought of the letter no longer existing clearly horrifying her.

Blushing, she handed the letter over to her friend. 

“Oh, Anne.. But this is really _nice_ , isn’t it?”

Yes, it was really nice and sweet, and that was the problem. Besides, Anne herself rarely wrote anything at all, so surely writing back would only lead to her making a fool out of herself. It would be best to destroy the letter, and pretend there had never been one in the first place. 

“Do you like him?”

“That’s not the right question to ask, Lettie, I’m sure you know why.” There was _no way_ that a man like him wanted anything from her that wouldn’t inevitably lead to heartbreak.

“So you _do_ like him.”

“He hasn’t been here very long, it’s hard to make a judgement based on so little evidence. I don’t know him, he doesn’t know me, and that will never change. We know the rules.”

“Aren’t you dismissing him a little too quickly?”

“I think he doesn’t understand what he’s playing with,” she scoffed. 

“Who says he’s playing at all?”

“Because that’s all they do, Lettie. I’d be stupid to play along. I know better.” So far she hadn’t had to learn the lesson the hard way, but had her mother's story to serve as a reminder. She was smart enough not to repeat her mother’s mistakes. _Considering that her own existence was one of them._

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Anne sighed. “I can’t believe you think I should write him back.”

“What if he’s different?” 

“He’s _not,"_ argued Anne, waving her hand dismissively.

"You just said we don't even know him, so how can you be sure?"

"I can't afford the risk, Lettie." Deep down she had to admit she admired her friend. Lettie too had suffered because of what she looked like, and yet she was willing to give people a chance to prove themselves. If only she could find the same courage in herself.

Although she would later claim to Lettie that she'd burned the letter, in the end she couldn't go through with it. Instead the piece of paper was now neatly folded and hidden underneath her mattress. 


	2. Chapter 2

If Phillip hadn’t personally given the letter to Ms. Lutz- or Lettie as she diligently insisted he call her- he could’ve lived under the impression that Anne hadn’t received it at all. Now he was just growing more and more certain every day that she had, but that it had been unwanted. _Although that did solve some of his problems, he still found it regrettable, like a clear path he’d once seen had closed._

It was strange how he could feel so strongly and yet she could be unaffected. Or perhaps him not belonging in the group of performers was the issue. Then there was, of course, the possibility he _hated_ even considering. That Anne was afraid of him because of what he was, and believed him to be someone he wasn’t, unable to give him a chance. If that was the case, he wondered how often this happened among people like them. _How often was there genuine interest and feelings he was far from allowing himself to name? Did it always end like this, fizzling out right at the start?_ It wasn’t against the law in New York, so as far as he could see, it was about overcoming fears and the judgement of other people rather than having to fight the state itself. 

There was so much of this world that he didn’t know, and he felt more and more uneducated every day he spent at the circus. Fancy boarding schools and universities weren’t what was needed to prepare for a world where you were forced to face all the people you never had to see if you stayed in your own world. Even more so if you closed your eyes from them and the way people like him treated them.

And here at the circus he'd found one of the only places in town where _he_ was the outsider. He still felt mostly useless, since he was missing a talent that would amaze or entertain people. That was a flaw that couldn't be fixed. These days he found himself laughing more often and no longer requiring his flask, and yet there was still an invisible wall between him and the others. They didn’t trust him, didn’t truly see him as one of them. It made sense, but it also stung, because he wanted more. Wanted to be worthy of more. Coming here and seeing how the people here treated each other had made him see that he’d never truly had friends before. It was a thought that ought to be acknowledged and then cast aside, because it made him feel very much alone. Sometimes self betrayal was the only way to live without wanting to drink the entire night away.

He barely cared what his parents’ shallow acquaintances thought about him- actually, chances were they had been scandalized by him when he merely worked on plays and drank too much- but these people were good and real. He would never belong with the crowd he grew up with, but would he belong here, either? It didn’t look that way, but he wasn’t about to give up on that just yet. 

As he sat at the bar, having nursed a single glass of whiskey for the last hour, someone took the seat beside him. Phillip turned, coming face to face with W.D. Wheeler.

”You’ve got to stop staring at my sister.” The words weren’t exactly delivered in a threatening manner, but Phillip knew W.D. meant for them to be one. He opened his mouth to apologize, but he wasn’t sorry, _not really_. Admiring Anne’s beauty, grace and talent shouldn’t be a crime in anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s not that I think you’re a bad man, but it always ends badly for the black woman when a white man sets his sights on her,” continued W.D. “I won’t let that happen to my little sister.”

Although Phillip opened his mouth for a second time, this time to argue that he wasn’t one of those men, he concluded that he didn’t know much about the world Anne and her brother lived in. He _did_ know what sort of affairs were socially acceptable for a man like him to have with a black woman, and although that wasn’t what he wanted from her, keeping his mouth shut felt like the best choice. _Because he had done nothing to prove that to her brother, had he?_

All he knew was that he didn’t want a wife he didn’t love but who came from a so-called respectable family, for a marriage like that would be another cage, and he was only learning to live outside the one he’d been his entire life. He also knew that he'd never write another pretentious play with no soul, that what he’d been working on in his scant spare time was nothing like the things he’d ever written before. Of course nobody would ever make it into a play, but writing it- even if it was only for his desk drawer- made him feel alive, much like how he felt when he was anywhere in Anne's vicinity. 

“I understand,” he settled on replying after careful consideration.

“Does that mean you’ll stop doing it?”

He nodded. “I will,” he promised, maintaining eye contact with W.D. There was no reason for him to go anywhere near Anne now that he could be reasonably certain she wasn’t interested in hearing what he had to say, or revealing more about herself. At least for the time being, because somehow he still entertained the idea that he could let some time pass and perhaps she'd come to see him in a new light.

He would absolutely not tell W.D. that Anne was the most captivating woman he’d ever laid eyes on, that nobody else could ever compare and that there was nothing about her that he didn’t like. 

“I know this doesn’t change anything, but I have never meant any disrespect.”

W.D. arched a brow at him. “You’re right, it doesn’t change anything, but I believe you.”

That was probably the best Phillip could hope for, so he nodded, at last finishing his drink. There was another letter he had to address to a woman, but this time not to Anne. 

***

After first seeing the way he looked at her, she’d even hoped for him to be nothing more than another rich airhead with little concern for people like her. It was easier to ignore the glances of a man who didn’t deserve her attention and who she wasn’t drawn to, but neither of those conditions were fulfilled with Phillip Carlyle. She could’ve spent entire days staring into his blue eyes, or watching him with the Barnum girls, as they hung onto his every word and climbed all over him like monkeys.

Now she wasn’t sure why, but he would no longer look at her if he could avoid it, suddenly no long observing the rehearsal, and turning his back to her, occupying himself with someone else when she happened to be in the same space. Perhaps it was about her refusal to write him back. It made sense, but the more she thought about it, the more she hated thinking he believed her to not have any interest in him. Of course she saw him, like any other living young woman would have, and as hard as the tried to not be flattered that he’d shown interest in her, it wasn’t working very well. He still seemed tongue tied while talking to her, and God, how she wished she didn’t like that, too. Then there was of course the letter he'd sent to her, the one she hadn't gotten rid of, but hadn't replied to, either. The one she still read once or twice every day, just to make sure it was real.

 _Was it possible for him to even think she wasn’t interested?_ Surely there had to be a line of socialites begging for his attention. It shouldn’t be a big deal for him to be rejected by someone who people usually pretended was not there at all or openly despised. _Or maybe he was used to getting what he wanted ._

Then one day Barnum’s family was visiting when he suddenly marched up to the man himself, declaring that he’d secured an invitation from Queen Victoria herself. Despite achieving this feat that couldn’t have been an easy one, he happily played with Helen Barnum once again, coaxing a smile from Anne.

She saw him with Barnum’s daughters every week, sometimes even more than once. Anyone with that much patience for children could not be the heartless stuck up snob she and W.D. had originally pegged him to be. The man brought in by Barnum to help appease the rich white elite of New York, who was turning out to be so much more than that. 

Barnum was of course over the moon over the thought of getting to meet Queen Victoria, but Anne knew it wasn't that simple. There was no way they were all invited, most certainly not her or W.D. And yet she couldn't help but wonder... She should at least ask, and not always assume the worst, right? Lettie would be proud of her. 

“And are we _all_ invited?” She asked, addressing Phillip Carlyle himself. Surely the Queen wouldn't want people like her and her brother staining the grounds of her precious palace. 

He turned to her, meeting her eyes for the first time in a long time. _Too long,_ insisted her heart as it skipped a beat. 

“I’ll just have to tell her that either we all go, or none of us do,” he promised without hesitation, and she had to give all she could to not cry. Of course he had yet to act on that promise, but he sounded serious, and the desire to believe and hope was growing in her. It was insane to think that anyone would refuse the Queen’s invitation over people like her and her brother, but this was by far the craziest and most wonderful place she had ever worked at.

She’d spent many sleepless nights recently, battling with her conscience over her decision not to write back to him. Every night she told herself a different excuse. _She couldn’t think of what to say that would be even somewhat appropriate. Her handwriting was terrible, barely legible. She’d waited too long and now it was too late._

That night she began to consider what to write to him. 

***

After that night at the bar Phillip had kept his promise to Anne’s brother, avoiding her as much as he could, only watching her and W.D’s performance during the show from the shadows, when everyone else was watching too. Not having a reply to his letter made it easier, as he was a little afraid of what he’d find in her eyes. He'd never even considered that some of the troupe would not be welcomed at the court, but Anne's question had made him see that he ought to give the Queen that ultimatum. _How would it be fair for only some of them to go?_ He would feel like a fool, posturing at the palace with Barnum, while most of the people with any kind of talent at all had to stay away. No, that would've been wrong. He'd made sure that the Queen saw that as well, and she had, clarifying that _all_ performers were to visit her court.

A mere couple of days before their departure across the Atlantic, once the last show was over, he walked around the ring, absent-mindledly picking up flowers that an enthusiastic guest had thrown. They were the exact color of Anne’s show wig. The color looked great on her, and yet he still preferred her natural curls, had even indulged in the fantasy of running his hands through them. As he was too focused on the flowers, he didn’t hear her until she was standing right behind him.

“Hello, Mr. Carlyle,” she said.

Startled, he turned around, still holding the flowers.

“I haven’t seen you much recently,” she continued.

“Barnum’s kept me busy,” he lied, swallowing nervously. _Well, he'd managed a few words without stuttering this time, hadn't he? It was a good start._

“Have you ever been abroad before, Mr. Carlyle?” She asked.

“Yes, to England and France.”

“What was that like?”

“I’m not a big fan of London, but Paris… It’s a magical place.”

“You speak any French?”

“A few words.”

“Me too. Well, assuming the French they speak in Louisiana is the same language," she joked.

He grinned at her before realizing what he was doing, yet he couldn’t help himself. She was nothing like the young women he was accustomed to having around him; she was humble, talented, lovely, and _real_.

“Uh, I think these were meant for you,” he said as he held out the flowers for her to take, intending to put a swift end to their encounter.

Anne smiled back at him, reaching for the flowers. “I’m pretty sure they were meant for Lettie, but thank you, anyway.”

Heat crept up to his face. _Would it be so bad if he bought her flowers one night?_ Yes, it would, although God knew she deserved them and so much more.

And yet he did it anyway, leaving a bouquet of purple and pink carnations without a note on her dressing room table between rehearsal and show the night after their meeting. 

***

Lettie arched her brow at Anne as she inhaled the scent of the flowers, but there was a smile on the older woman’s lips. 

“From your young admirer, I assume?

”I guess,” Anne admitted, fingering the fine petals lightly. She was tempted to take out one of the flowers and press it between a book. A keepsake to keep with the letter. 

“There’s no telling who these are from,” she replied flippantly. “After all, there’s no note.”

Lettie rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that, Anne Wheeler. So, did you ever write him back?”

She shook her head. ”Don’t you think that’d be foolish?” She asked. No, of course she wouldn't think that, but she was probably the only one here aside from Barnum himself perhaps, but she couldn't imagine that Phillip would want him to know about this.

"Not at all, and I don't care how many times I have to tell you that. Haven't you seen enough to at least write him back? I've seen you watch him from backstage, looking at him with those girls, stars in your eyes. Like you’re imagining him fathering your children.”

”I’m _not_ imagining that,” she quickly denied, embarrassed to have been caught in the act. If Lettie had seen her, how many others had? She was pathetic, wasn’t she? The man hadn’t ever even touched her, for God’s sake. 

”Yes, you are, honey, and it’s okay. If I were fifteen years younger, I’d be thinking the same as you. You deserve nice things, Anne, and he is very nice.”

”We still don’t know him very well,” she argued, albeit weakly this time. 

”So why don’t you get to know him better?”

”I can’t imagine he’d ever wish to be seen with someone like me.”

”Oh, sweetie. You’ll never know if you don’t give it a shot.”

At first she’d thought Phillip Carlyle could only see her as she was on stage, with a bright colored wig and wearing next to nothing compared to the proper ladies he associated with. Then she'd found him stealing glances at her even when she was in her regular clothes, and his gaze was no less piercing, no less admiring. _Adoring._ At the same time he happened to be the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on.

Maybe at the end of the day she’d be revealed to be a gullible fool, but she stayed up late that night to write Phillip Carlyle a letter. Questions beat at her busy mind the entire time. _Had she waited too long? Would he be able to see how few chances she’d ever had to write anything at all? Did it matter to him, or to her? What should she say?_

Now they were all going to see Queen Victoria, and that was thanks to him. No, she didn’t believe Phillip himself to be a narrow-minded bigot at all. _But would he have the courage to act on his feelings for her? Should she ask him about his intentions?_

Sometimes she entertained herself by wondering what it would be like to be able to speak truly freely in front of him, to have him kiss her, promise her that he was hers, and hers alone. To see his beautiful blue eyes look at her with hunger, and then have him act on it. The fantasies made her heart gallop and her breath catch in her throat. They may have been useless dreams, but they kept her awake at night. Sure, he was a little on the serious side and smiled less than most people, but she also saw patience and goodness in him, evident in how he acted around everyone.

It was nearly a day later when she slipped into the office he shared with Barnum and located his jacket, discarded on the backrest of a chair. Making sure it was certainly his instead of Barnum's- she couldn't bear the thought of making that mistake- she placed it into its breast pocket. Hopefully he would find it. On second thought, she wanted to read it one more time and removed it first from the pocket and then from the envelope.

_Dear Mr. Carlyle_

_May I ask how many young ladies have received letters from you before me? I must admit I was impressed by your declaration to get us all to see the Queen. Loyalty goes a long way in this place, whether you know that yet or not._

_There is nothing convenient or appropriate about the letter you sent me or the one you’re reading right now, but your advances are not wholly unwanted. It is beyond foolish of me to write to you or dare to hope for anything, but you have made me curious._

_Surely true wealthy gentlemen of your station would not be writing to a black trapeze artist, hoping for… What, exactly? What are your intentions, Mr. Carlyle? Do you not see the problems you are potentially bringing upon both of us? Would you say that you are approaching me regardless of the color of my skin? What is it that you see when you look at me?_

_Best Regards,_

_Anne Wheeler_

The thudding of her heart was so loud that she could barely hear the footsteps behind her, and turned around just in time to face him. 

"Hello," he said, his eyes widening at the letter in her hand.

"I- I shouldn't be in here."

"It's all right. What- _is that_ -" He tried, stopping when she frantically tried to shove the letter back into the envelope.

This was _not_ how it was supposed to go, but somehow she managed to gather the shreds of her pride and place the envelope neatly on the desk. "It is for you," she informed him before striding out of the office and disappearing before he could come after her.


	3. Chapter 3

Phillip still stood in the middle of the office, frozen in place as he stared into the direction Anne had gone… Then he realized she’d placed the letter on the desk. _A letter. Could it really be, after all this time?_

He had to read it right now, and devise a reply immediately, assuming she wasn’t telling him to stay away from her. It turned out she wasn’t, but she was asking for answers. He could hardly blame her for that, could he? The problem was that not even he had all the answers. Phillip jumped as the door to the office opened and Barnum ran in, a manic smirk on his face. Recently he’d grown used to seeing the man like that, and it was always a certain sign of a new idea, often something that made him want to shake his head in disbelief. 

Covering the letter he was still working on with his hand, he gazed at Barnum.

“I thought you went home. What is it this time?” He asked, amused.

“Fire! Water! Wind! I want to use the elements in the show. It’ll look fantastic, Phillip, I need to write it down before I-“ he said, falling silent as he realized Phillip was hiding something under his hand. “What is that you’re writing? I sure hope it’s not a letter of resignation.”

“It’s not. It’s private correspondence,” Phillip muttered confidently.

“ _Private correspondence?_ Oh, I see. Charity and I used to write quite often when she was away in finishing school and I was working on the railways,” reminisced the older man with a knowing smirk. 

“It’s not-“ Phillip started before realizing he didn’t want to lie. What possible reason could there be to hide his intentions from Barnum? He would eventually find out, after all. 

Shaking his head, he started again. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” came out, eliciting a snort of laughter from Barnum. “I think you’re courting my acrobat,” he said.

“I-“ he stammered. _Was that what he was doing? Obviously yes._

“Come on, Phillip. Everyone here _knows,_ including my wife, by the way.”

All right, so he hadn’t figured _everyone_ knew, just Lettie, who had been kind enough to deliver his letter safely to Anne’s dressing table. 

“I suppose this is the part where you tell me that I should stop.”

“No, your business is your business as long as it doesn’t harm the circus,” replied Barnum. “You have your ambitions and I have mine.”

Phillip sighed in relief. 

“I was thirteen when I decided I’d marry Charity one day. Sometimes you just _know_ ,” Barnum continued.

He nodded. “I know this is complicated, and most people would say I’ve lost my mind.”

“Yes, well, that’s true, I would guess, not that I have personal experience going against that particular rule of this society. However, I’m hardly in the business of calling other people crazy. I’ve had those words said to me too many times to count, including several times by my own father-in-law. That hasn’t stopped me, and if I’m right about you, that’s not going to stop you, either.”

Phillip sighed, unable to imagine deciding that what other people might say- _would say,_ he corrected himself- mattered more than how he felt about Anne. On a theoretical level it felt insignificant, but he could hardly deny that there would be consequences. There were no doubts that people would talk. To him, the color of her skin was another part of her, and there was no part of her that he didn’t like or appreciate. Most people didn’t see things that way, unfortunately. Then there was the matter of the promise he’d made to her brother. Yes, W.D. Wheeler should call him a liar, but now that she’d decided to write back, he _had_ to see where this would go.

“I have no intention of stopping,” he admitted to Barnum. 

“That’s the spirit, Phillip,” he mumbled back, digging through a box for something. “Right, I’ll leave you to it. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

Finally able to focus, Phillip spent most of the night trying to form his reply to her.

***

The letter arrived barely a half a day after she'd delivered hers, far sooner than Anne had expected it to. He seemed eager to speak to her, even if it wasn’t in person. It warmed her heart in ways she'd never experienced. It was scary, but also the most exciting and romantic thing that had ever happened to her.

"Well, open it!" Insisted Lettie. 

"I'm thinking I'd rather keep this private," she told her friend. 

Lettie groaned. "As long as you at least tell me if it's as good as I think it's got to be."

"Well, hold on on."

_Dear Miss Wheeler,_

_Perhaps I ought to be embarrassed to reveal that you are most certainly the first and only woman I have ever written letters of this nature to. I am so glad you decided to write me back. You are very special to me, and I have been holding onto the hope that you would be interested in finding out more about me, as I am about you. Please be assured that the words ‘despite’ or ‘regardless’ are not in my vocabulary when it comes to anything pertaining to you. There is nothing I would change about how you look, you are perfect the way you are._

_As for whether I understand what I am doing, the answer would be perhaps not completely, but I do know enough to make my choice on the matter. I_ _have spent far too many nights inebriated and caring about nothing except for the next drink, and sometimes when something troubles me, I still Iong for that numbness. Nevertheless, I know it’s not the answer to my troubles, and I have found that other things in life that make me happier than any whiskey ever could._

_Best Regards,_

_Phillip Carlyle_

"So?"

Composing herself, Anne prepared to answer. "It's not as great as you think," she teased, keeping herself from being too moved by his words. They sounded like something meant for someone else, most definitely not her, but yet she drank them in like she'd been depraved of drink for days. Although she still didn't truly know him, she _felt_ like she did. If she had to pick the strangest thing about all of this, that would be it.

When Lettie frowned, she continued. "It's better."

"Oh, Anne. I am so pleased for you."

"I shouldn't be- I shouldn't feel this way," she whispered, reading the letter again. W.D. would go berserk if he knew of any of this, much less that Carlyle was sending her letters where he called her _perfect._

"You have every right to love, just like everyone in this world," assured Lettie. "Don't let anyone take that away from you. Not those people who call us freaks, or even people who love you and think they know how you should live your life. You only get one chance at life." 

Anne nodded. They would be setting off for England later tonight. As much as she was looking forward to it, knowing how rare it was for someone like her to be able to meet the Queen, she was also nervous. It was Phillip’s world after all, a place where she didn’t belong. _How soon would he realize that?_

She managed to scrawl another letter before they were due to board the ship. Now came the tricky part, since there was no convenient way to give it to him. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the end of their journey. Barnum handed over the tickets before boarding, and she suddenly felt the chill of the harbor more acutely when she became clear that Barnum and Carlyle would be traveling in luxury, while the rest of them had 3rd Class tickets. She would never ask for special treatment- in fact, she would've refused it, but it made her wonder if she was truly making a huge mistake in engaging with Phillip Carlyle at all.

***

The steerage was cramped, but Anne didn't mind sharing with the other women from the troupe. It was the strangers she was more wary of, but so far nobody had said a word to her, and thankfully only a handful of women aside from their group was even occupying the steerage. The company of her friends also distracted her from the sounds and movements of the ship. This was her first time on a large ship and it didn't take long for her to figure out that her body nor mind were exactly big fans. In her mind's eye she imagined them getting caught in a storm, with waves higher than the museum building, and the ship breaking apart, ending all their lives. They would be trapped on the lower decks, with no chance of getting out as the water rushed in, filling every nook and cranny...

"Anne, what's the matter?" Asked Lettie, her hand on her back.

She shook her head. "I'm being stupid here."

"You don't like ships?"

"Not much."

"Me neither, to be honest. Come on, let's do something to take your mind off-"

Lettie was interrupted by a knock at the door of the compartment. "I wonder who that could be, at this hour" she murmured. Anne was the first to recover from the surprise and carefully cracked the door open. Her eyes widened at the sight of Phillip Carlyle, carrying something large.

"Hi," he said. "I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I brought food. From upstairs. Do you want it?" He asked. 

“How did you get this?” She asked in amazement, opening the door enough for the rest of the women to see. The parcel was large, it should feed everyone in her cabin.

Phillip grinned at her, the expression a little smug. “I told one of the cooks that I’m a big eater and would prefer to do it in my own cabin.”

“Of course you did,” she murmured back, suppressing a smirk of her own. And of course that poor soul had believed him. 

“I hope there’s enough for everyone.”

“I’m sure there is. Thank you, Mr. Carlyle.”

“It was no bother. I’ll bring more tomorrow. Good night, Miss Wheeler.”

“Uh, can you wait a second?” She asked, the undelivered letter in her bag haunting her. 

“Of course.”

“Here,” she said, handing over the letter after making sure the door behind her was closed.

“Thank you. I look forward to reading it,” he said, his gaze holding hers. There was no fight left in her when he looked at her like that.

“You have a way with words,” she murmured.

Beaming at her shyly this time, he averted his eyes from hers. “I’m glad you think so.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Until tomorrow.”

The food in steerage wasn’t bad in itself, but it didn’t hold a candle to the food Lettie cooked for them all at home. Cooked meat and vegetables were nothing to sneeze on- God knew she and W.D. had made do with far less- but there wasn’t much taste in the food. The parcel brought by Carlyle was as if from another world entirely, containing fruit, cakes, bread and savory meat dishes. They ended up sharing the food even with the women they didn’t know. 

“Who was the man that brought the food?” Inquired Ida Marshall, who was on her way to England to work as a maid for a wealthy family.

Lettie nudged Anne. “He’s... He’s our boss,” she settled on telling. Although technically that was the truth, some part of it didn’t fit. _Because he was already more than just that, at least to her, wasn’t he?_

Ida sighed. “Oh, how I wish I worked for someone like that! Does he have a wife?”

Lettie giggled. “Are you looking to volunteer?”

The woman flushed, averting her eyes from theirs. “It was an innocent question!”

”He doesn’t have a wife, but I think he’s got his eye on someone,” replied Lettie. 

“Lucky woman.” 

Anne was beginning to feel overheated. She could only imagine what Ida would say if she knew Lettie meant _her._ Whatever it was, she was sure she didn’t want to hear it. 

Eventually they all settled into their bunks, Anne taking the one on top of Lettie's. The sounds the ship made were even louder when nobody was speaking. The larger waves made her blood gather in her head, the creaks and groans of the hull and the steps of people on the higher decks all disturbing her sleep. _This was how it would be for the next week._ Sighing, she swore to herself that once they got back to New York, she'd never take another boat trip again. 

***

Phillip rushed into his cabin to read Anne’s letter. He wasn't fond of himself and Barnum traveling in such better conditions compared to everyone else, so the food was the least he could do. Next time he'd book the tickets himself. He couldn't control the man who called him an overcompensated apprentice, but he could control his own actions.

_Dear Mr. Carlyle_

_You seem to know the right words to choose, after all. I don’t know what you wish to know about me, but I will tell you five things:_

_#1 I think these letters are an awful idea, but yet I don’t wish for you to stop. What do you think that says about me?_

_# 2 Carnations are my favorite flowers._

_# 3 My father was a white man who couldn’t tolerate the thought of having a child like me._

_#4 My brother says my cooking is just about edible enough to keep us alive. That’s why we usually eat whatever Lettie makes._

_# 5 I grew up with my mother and brother, until she died around ten years ago. It’s been just the two of us ever since._

_Best Regards,_

_Anne Wheeler  
  
_

The tragedies and unfairness she’d had to endure affected him deeply. For so many people the events she described would’ve been too much to bear, and would have completely devastated them. Yet Anne was _there_ , carrying herself with such grace. He felt there was no adequate response he could give her, except that he was beyond honored that she trusted him enough to tell him all that. 

_Dear Miss Wheeler,_

_There are no words to describe how much it saddens me that you have had to go through such losses and injustice. Nevertheless, I am beyond thankful that you told me. I wish to know everything there is to know about you. Below you will find a list, which is but a poor attempt at giving you the kind of knowledge you’ve gifted me with._   
  


_#1 I am an only child and always used to envy those with siblings_

_#2 In my spare time these days, I read or write, but I used to drink._

_#3 I have vomited on the mayor of New York City. Please also see #2, as the two are quite strongly connected._

_#4 If I ever have children, I will not raise them the way I was raised. I was not raised to show emotion, but rather be cold and never draw negative attention to myself or my family in public._

_#5 Partying with people who think they’re better than others and who form no meaningful connections, isn’t good for one’s soul._

_P.S. If you would not mind, I would be more than happy to indulge your love of carnations again._

_P.P.S. I believe that your desire to still have me write to you says that you have somehow determined that I am worthy of something._

_Best Regards,_

_Phillip Carlyle_

Delivering food was really nothing more but an excuse to check on everyone in Steerage for Phillip, but it put a smile on most of their faces, so it was more than worth the trouble for him. The added bonus was that he got to see Anne a few times every single day of their trip without having to resort to waiting out on the deck to see if she’d happen to venture outside.

Often he’d see that some were engaged in a game of cards, but felt like his presence made them feel uncomfortable and that asking for permission to join the game wouldn’t necessarily be taken well. Yet when they were three days away from New York and he was about to return upstairs after delivering food once more, he stopped in his tracks and instead turned to the group, consisting mostly of men, but a few women, like Lettie, had joined in. Anne was nowhere to be seen, and perhaps that was what gave him the courage to ask.

“May I ask what you’re playing?”

W.D. stopped shuffling the cards and faced him. “Poker,” he replied.

“You want to join in?” Asked Lettie, raising a brow as she smiled, likely guessing his intentions. 

Now _everyone_ turned to look at him. As Phillip usually preferred staying backstage, being the center of attention wasn’t something he was all that used to. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, if you don’t mind,” he exhaled. 

Lettie and some others nodded. Although some of the glares he got told a different story, he took a seat between Lettie and Charles. Not all of them were comfortable with him there, but then again, neither was he. Perhaps they could find a middle way.

At first he hadn’t planned on losing every game, most of them to Anne’s brother, but that was what it had come to. When everyone else had dropped out of the game, it always came down to him and W.D. Wheeler. They were mostly playing for honor and bragging rights instead of money, but yet he couldn’t find it in himself to even truly try to win. 

“W.D wins _again_!” Exclaimed Lettie.

“You can’t seriously be this bad at poker, Carlyle,” said Charles, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Phillip shook his head, shrugging. “I don’t have as much experience as he obviously does. Well, thank you everyone for letting me join, I think it’s time for me to leave you alone-” he said, his words cut off as he stood up and rather literally bumped into Anne. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” he apologized, having stepped on her foot.

“It’s all right, Mr. Carlyle.”

He felt as if a pair of eyes was burning twin holes into the back of his skull, and took his leave from the steerage.

“Hold on, Mr. Carlyle!” Anne’s soft voice made him halt immediately, and he waited for her to reach him.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“I know what you did in there.”

Shuffling his feet, he played innocent. “Guess I’m not very good at poker,” he joked. 

Anne rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you lost on purpose.”

“I-“

“This isn’t a place where you need to pretend, Mr. Carlyle.”

And then she was gone again. Groaning, Phillip wrote her a note to hand over with the additional food later on. 

_Dear Miss Wheeler_

_You were right. I lost over and over again on purpose. It is true that I’ve never been very keen on gambling, but I am not as bad at it as it seemed today. You are right about not pretending, it makes people trust me even less than they do now._

_Best Regards,_

_Phillip Carlyle_

From there on, it wasn’t only seeing her as he delivered the food that he looked forward to, but the short notes they exchanged. By the time they reached the shore, he had a dozen of them safely packed between one of his books.

_Dear Mr. Carlyle_

_I am glad you were able to admit it, I wasn’t sure if you would. If I may advise you, I would say that you should have the courage to be yourself, like the rest of us. There are some who already like you. What I would like to know is if the Phillip Carlyle in these letters of yours is the real one? Or is it just another act?_

_Best Regards,_

_Anne Wheeler_

Another act? He'd thought about her question ever since their first meeting, at first truly believing he had no act. Recently he'd experienced a change of heart, concluding that perhaps he did indeed have an act. If that was the truth, the act was pretending he enjoyed the life he'd lived so far. 

_Dear Miss Wheeler,_

_What you receive in these letters is the real me, I give you my word on that. There are so many things I would like to tell you and to find out about you, but I do not wish to scare you away._

_Best Regards._

_Phillip Carlyle_

***

The truth of what was to come was revealed to Anne only on the morning of their visit to the palace. _You will wear your costumes._ And yet there would be no trapeze, no hoop for her to use, nothing to amaze her audience with. It would be just her, wearing a wig and a leotard. Not that she owned anything suitable for visiting royalty, but she did now possess a few unpatched and clean dresses. 

The words were delivered by Barnum, his smile brighter than the sun itself. Anne wasn’t prone to panicking, but she found herself dry-heaving in a ditch beside the carriage they would be using.

“Anne?” W.D. laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

“I know what you’re thinking. We shouldn’t be here.”

She shook her head, letting her brother’s touch calm her. “No, we shouldn’t.”

“These people will _never_ get it. Look, we can lie that you’re sick, so you won’t have to come-“

“No, I have to come. I want to stand with you.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Now let me get in that carriage before we make a scene here, W.D.,” she sighed, climbing up to the carriage on her own. 

***

Phillip could’ve smacked his head against the hull of the ship. He was _so_ stupid. 

“We should think this through again,” he told Barnum, wringing his hands as they disembarked the ship. 

“What’s there to think about, Phillip?” Replied the man brightly. “The Queen wants to see the circus in all its glory, and that’s what she should have, don’t you agree?”

“Most of them can’t even perform there! Why should they be in their costumes if they can’t do what they’ve been hired to do?” He asked, doing his best to remain calm. 

“Fair point, but they’re an ensemble. We _want_ people to notice them, we _want_ them to stand out from the guests. I don’t want anyone wondering if someone’s part of my troupe or not, it has to be obvious.”

He was starting to feel sick to his stomach. This was clearly something he should’ve been smart enough to bring up before. Now they were out of time. 

They reached the carriages and as Phillip turned, he saw _her_ , bent over the ditch, her face pale. He took a stride towards her, even a second one, before realizing it wasn’t his place, and her brother was already there, placing a steadying hand on her back. _He wanted it to be his place._

***

The looks she’d prepared herself for. Of course the noblemen would stare when she stood in front of them, shivering in the cool air of the palace, wearing so little. Then came the wandering hands she couldn’t react to. A touch here and there. The only way to get away from them was to hide herself among her friends and stay close to her brother.

It wasn’t her first time feeling publicly humiliated, and at least she wasn’t alone, although she was the one with the most ridiculous outfit for sure. She would live and move on, just as she always had. 

She hadn’t dared even think about Phillip Carlyle, not standing too far from them, his eyes darting in her direction every now and then. _Pity._ That was what it had to be. And she hated it, hiding in her tiny cloak even more tightly. _Did he see it now? How far her life was from his, how impossible it was to cross the divide?_ Anger came to her more easily than sadness, but somehow she couldn’t muster it when it came to this man. Despite tonight, or maybe even partly because of it, she yearned to speak to him, alone. She wanted to explode, but there was nobody to raise her voice to. She’d never dare confront Barnum in that manner- they weren't nearly close enough- and lecturing to Lettie or W.D. or anyone else would be useless.

***

Phillip should’ve been feeling as elated as Barnum, they had been granted audience with Queen Victoria after all. However, seeing Anne’s discomfort, he realized he’d made a serious mistake. Of course Barnum had wanted the performers to visit the Queen as entertainment instead of guests. Now it was only the man himself and Phillip who could be called that. He felt horrible as he watched Anne try to hide in that tiny cape of hers. They should all be standing there together- even better if Anne was at his arm- none of them dressed for performances that could hardly be given in a palace ballroom. He may have been an overcompensated apprentice, but this would not happen again if he had anything to say about it. 

It was on occasions like this that he felt as if he were still in his old life, trying to fit in with people who he didn’t really have that much in common with. That was why Barnum had hired him though, wasn’t it? To use his connections to appeal to the so-called better crowd. Sometimes he couldn’t understand the man. He was happily married with two daughters who had clearly had a much different upbringing than Phillip’s own, and the circus was making a nice profit. And yet he still yearned for more fame, more... Acceptance?

People tended to look down on others for the strangest reasons, including making your own fortune instead of inheriting money. Phillip couldn’t understand that at all. Shouldn’t that rather be something to be admired? This was one of the reasons he took up on Barnum’s offer in the first place. He didn’t want to live among rules that didn’t even make sense. 

Eventually Barnum forced him to tear his gaze off Anne, insisting he be introduced to Miss Jenny Lind. The singer was considered to be an arresting beauty, but in Phillip’s mind she was nothing compared to Anne. However, Barnum was enamored by Miss Lind and apparently she would be soon performing in New York, the entire spectacle brought to curious American crowds by P.T. Barnum. Phillip wasn’t entirely sure if or how this new development would benefit the circus, but he hid his concerns, at least for the time being. 

***

As soon as they were back on the ship, Anne changed into regular clothes and cleaned herself the best she could. Most of the people in the troupe were in good spirits after the visit, especially the ones who had received the attention of the Queen herself, but she was only glad it was finally over. She never wanted to go through anything like this again, but yet she would if Barnum needed that of her. This was by far the worst night she’d ever experienced while working at the circus, but it still remained the best job she’d had. As the minutes ticked by, her mind began to calm down, and she accompanied Lettie and the others to dinner.

After another dinner that left them all expectant for the cabin leftovers Phillip would bring later, Anne decided to take a stroll on the deck. As the door swung shut behind her, she heard a second set of steps behind her. 

”Miss Wheeler?” It was him, of course, probably on his way to deliver the additional food again. Unable to help herself, she wished she could see into his head. 

”Yes, Mr. Carlyle?” She stopped, but didn’t turn to look at him, afraid her eyes would betray her if she faced him. 

At first he said nothing, but she knew he hadn’t left, either.

“I- I should deliver the food, will you still be here when I come back?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then they can wait.”

Scoffing, she rubbed up and down her arms, her light coat not enough to fight the coldness. “Go and take the food to them, I’ll be here.” _She shouldn’t stay though, should she?_ Especially considering the mood she was in, she was likely to say something that would horrify her brother. 

He was panting when he returned, making her wonder if he’d run all the way up from the lower decks.

“Here, Miss Wheeler,” he said, placing something on her shoulders before finally stilling a few yards away from her. Anne grasped the edges of the blanket, pulling it more tightly around her.

“Thank you.”

”I’m sorry you weren’t treated as you should’ve been in the palace.”

She frowned. It sure hadn’t been her choice to be gawked at by the Queen of England and her entourage in her leotard and a ridiculously small cape, but why did any of that really matter to this man? ”What do you mean?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

”All of you should’ve been among the guests, in appropriate attire.”

“I don’t want your pity, Mr. Carlyle,” she told him angrily, still refusing to look at him. 

He sighed. “I don’t pity you. I’m trying to do the right thing, as unbelievable as that may seem.”

“I guess now you at last realize why you shouldn’t be writing to me.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied, his voice betraying no irritation with her angry tone. W.D. would’ve been livid at her daring to speak to Phillip like this, but she didn’t believe he would object. He seemed like a man who rarely lost his temper.

“But I do think you’re angry with me right now,” he said, but wasn’t even really him she was angry with, and it was particularly hard to stay angry when he was so calm and understanding. She could scream at him if she wanted to, but the longer they stood there, the more she felt like letting down her defenses. 

”I… Some of the men there couldn’t keep their hands to themselves entirely,” she choked out, the burden of the act lifting from her now that her words were out. She hadn’t told anyone else.

“My God… I- I didn’t know.”

“Neither does anyone else.”

“I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she answered with a sigh.

“You’ll never be put in a position to be subjected to that kind of abuse again, not as long as you’re with the circus. I swear that on my life.”

Now he sounded agitated, even angry, but it wasn’t directed at her. 

She nodded, certain that she’d start crying if she looked at him now. That was _a lot_ to promise, and she didn’t know if she could trust him, but nobody had ever even wanted to make such a promise to her. 

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do now.”

Anne chuckled. “Trying to fix things. Not everything can be fixed, Mr. Carlyle, and we don’t even really expect that. Sometimes it’s enough to listen.”

“We?”

“Women. My brother is the same as you. Always trying to fix things.”

Now he laughed, too. “I’m very sorry, Miss Wheeler. I’ll try to do better.”

“Sometimes you’re a little strange, Mr. Carlyle.” He was pretty strange, especially for a rich white man, but it increased her interest in him. She had tried fighting her attraction to him, but the more he wrote and the more she saw of him, the deeper she fell. 

Feeling brave, she stepped closer to challenge him, finally facing him. He took no steps back. The ocean breeze pulled some strands of her hair free from its tie. What stole Anne’s breath was that suddenly he raised his hand to graze one of the stray curls. It must have only lasted for a second or two, before he seemed to catch himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

_Do it again_ , she wanted to tell him. 

***

Phillip felt himself blushing in embarrassment and cleared his throat, wiping his mind clear of all thoughts pertaining to kissing her right now. 

“Why do you think I’m strange?” He asked, deciding to change the topic.

”Because you don’t always seem to understand how the world works, and then you apologize for things no sane man would. People like me are treated a certain way, and that’s the rule.”

”Rules can be changed, Miss Wheeler, if enough people see fault in them. Please forgive me if I’ve offended you.” He was decidedly not good at this. Then again, he had never felt this kind of... _Affection_ , for a woman before. The truth was that he was falling in love with her. Hearing that she’d been touched without her consent made his blood boil in a way he rarely experienced. Standing there, staring out at the harbor, the blanked he’d brought wrapped tightly around her, she looked small, frail. He’d brought her there, hadn’t he? Therefore he was the cause for her pain. What he wanted was to offer comfort and safety, but how could he do that to a woman who still doubted him? Thanks to his upbringing, he’d learned that the right way to handle problems and make them disappear was to throw money at them. It wouldn’t work now, but a thought nagged at him: perhaps that was all he was good for, just like his father.

There had been plenty of women throwing themselves at him, looking for a wealthy husband. He’d flirted with them, even spent some nights out on the town with them, but his interest in Anne Wheeler was different. It was a serious matter, and he found himself sorely lacking the tools and knowledge to court her properly. The letters were stupid, but at least she was no longer ignoring him. He could take her anger, too, if she wanted to direct it at him. He was hardly a bad choice in that regard.

”You haven’t. Although I believe my brother would prefer it if you didn’t look at me as often as you do.” Was she aware that her brother had even discussed the matter with him?

”And what would _you_ prefer I do?” 

”That depends.”

”On what?”

”On your reasons, and what your intentions are. You still haven’t told me.”

“Am I not being obvious enough?”

“You’re being evasive, Mr. Carlyle. Why should I take you seriously?”

In all fairness, it was an excellent question. Yet he couldn’t think of a satisfying answer to give her. 

”You have nothing to fear from me, Miss Wheeler.”

”See, I think that’s where you’re mistaken. Good night, Mr. Carlyle,” she quipped, turning to walk back to the door.

”Good night, Miss Wheeler. You should call me Phillip, though.”

”I’ll consider it," she promised, a playful smile on her lips.

He thought she was already gone when she suddenly spoke again. “You can call me Anne.”

Already drafting his next letter to her, he remained on the deck until he heard his name being called from the upper level.

“Phillip? There you are! Come on, there’s an orchestra here I want you to introduce me to!” Exclaimed Barnum, motioning for him to come back up. Determined to keep his promise to Anne, he took the stairs to the upper deck and grasped Barnum’s shoulder.

“Look. I’ll introduce you to whoever you want me to, but only after you agree to something.”

Barnum blinked. “What has gotten into you?”

“The fact that… Some of our performers were harassed in an inappropriate manner tonight at the palace because you wanted them to stand out!”

The older man sighed. “Fine, let’s go inside and talk about this. I’d rather not cause a scene here, and you’re being very loud, especially considering that you’re _never_ loud.”

They ended up in a thankfully empty hallway.

“Tell me, although I’m guessing you have a very personal agenda at play here.”

“What if I have a point anyway?”

“What is it that you want _me_ to do? You’re upset, go and sweep the girl off her feet and make it better.” Phillip was hardly in the mood for jokes, but he still blushed at the words.

“I want to do right by _everyone_ ,” he insisted. Now he was beginning to see why Barnum knowing he had feelings for Anne wasn’t such a good thing after all.

“So I ask again: what do you want me to do?”

“I want this to never happen again. Don’t parade them in front of royalty and the New York elite in their costumes! They’re artists and need clothes to wear if you want to drag them to parties.” It wasn't like the actors of his plays had to wear their costumes unless they were performing. 

Barnum shrugged. “Fine, let’s get them some clothes, then. I’m sure you can handle the details.”

“I can. Thank you.” He didn't believe Barnum to be a bad man, but rather he was very focused on things that had little to do with the feelings and well-being of people. 

“Are we done here? Can you do your job now?”

Giving in, Phillip sighed. "Let's go."

It was hours later when he could finally concentrate on writing back to her again. His heart pounded as he penned the words, knowing that after their latest conversation there was no other choice except to reveal more of himself. 

_Dear Anne,_

_When you asked me about my intentions, first in writing and then here on the ship, I should have given you a straight answer. Please do not think my reluctance has anything to do with you. The direction of my life seemed to be predetermined, but things have changed ever since I came here and it has been less clear. However, I think I am finding my own path. Here it is in writing: I am doing my very best to court you, but admittedly I am much worse at it than I could have ever anticipated._

_While visiting the palace, I realized a mistake had been made by me. You should not have been there as entertainment, but rather as guests, and dressed appropriately for that. I again apologize for being an indirect cause of your discomfort and the harassment you faced. It would be a privilege to escort you at a party or a theater performance or another occasion._

_As will be discussed tomorrow, Miss Jenny Lind is performing in New York soon, and everyone from the circus is invited to the show. After speaking with Mr. Barnum, we have agreed I will call upon a store and a tailor to help everyone out with suitable clothing for the evening. I hope you find something to your liking. I trust that whatever you choose will be enough to steal my breath._

_Yours,_

_Phillip_


	4. Chapter 4

Two days after returning from England, the big day arrived. Well, not _that_ big day, if you asked Barnum. Jenny Lind’s performance was still upcoming, although merely a few days away. This was something Phillip had been preparing for weeks. _The opening night._ The script was finished, and he and his stars had even practiced some. Now the premiere was at hand.

Helen had a large basket with her when she and her sister bounced into the building that afternoon with their mother. 

“Did you bring them?” He asked Helen.

She handed him the basket, revealing an assortment of figurines and rag dolls. “Yes, I remembered everything! Did you finish writing?”

Phillip nodded. “I did, as promised. Caroline, did you bring the props?”

“Yes, and it took us _all day_ yesterday to make them. Mom helped a little.”

“They look great.”

They weren’t supposed to have an audience at all, as he had devised the story only for the girls’ benefit in the first place, but when Charity and Lettie sat down, their faces expectant, he decided to go with the flow. 

“Are you nervous?” Asked Helen, frowning at him as she clung to his leg.

“Uh, you see Helen, this is new for me. I’m not an actor, or a singer or an acrobat, or an accomplished ballerina like your sister.”

“My mom says it’s normal to be nervous. Caroline’s always nervous before she had to dance to people.”

“Am not,” argued Caroline angrily.

“Let’s agree that it’s all right to be a little nervous, like your mom says, and start the show,” he told the girls, setting up the homemade props. There was a colorful circus, and a mansion that he’d asked the girls to make look like their own home. 

The first scene took place in the mansion, with Caroline’s rag doll Colette making a birthday cake for her sister, Helen’s doll Claire. The girls were only playing one role each, which left him with all the other characters, including the family dog, a large mutt called Bernard. 

A shudder ran through him all of a sudden, and somehow he knew what was causing it. Unsure what drew his gaze to the shadows, he spied a lithe figure standing there. _Anne._

“Phillip, it’s your line!” Whisper-shouted Helen.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled before resuming his line.

Fortunately he knew his lines by heart, otherwise his focus would have certainly been broken by the continuously growing audience, eventually including nearly everyone aside from Barnum. Eventually Anne moved to sit beside Lettie, but he wondered why she’d lingered in the shadows so long. It concerned him deeply that she hadn’t written to him since his last letter. Maybe what he’d said had been too much, too soon. She could be backing out.

They’d reached the most exciting part of the story, where the girls had to solve the disappearance of the birthday cake. “It was the colonel who stole the cake!” Exclaimed Helen. Phillip grinned. 

“That is correct, Helen. But _how_ did he do it?”

“He let the chickens out, which was why everyone had to leave him alone with the cake, but Bernard interrupted him, and _ate_ most of the cake,” concluded Caroline proudly. 

“Very impressive, Caroline.”

Helen looked disgusted. “Does that mean the rest of the cakes as dog hair in it?” She asked.

“I’m afraid so,” he told her gravely.

“Eewwww!” Groaned the girls in unison. 

***

Everyone would see it, Anne was sure of it. She yearned to watch him with the girls, the goodness in his soul so evident, but there were so many people around. They would all see how she felt about him. There would be questions. So far Lettie and W.D. had been the only ones to even mention anything about Phillip to her, her brother mostly to express his concerns. _How would she answer those questions?_ Or maybe she should hope that W.D. was capable of being scary enough to keep them from asking her. Maybe they’d think she was being ridiculous. They’d be right about that though, wouldn’t they? But watching him entertain the children was what she needed to restore her faith in humanity, that such pure things still existed. She didn’t like thinking back to her humiliation at the palace, as it only made her angry and sad. Phillip had managed to make her feel better that first night, but the memories hadn’t faded. She’d liked being touched by him, and was determined not to flinch from him, because she’d be damned if she allowed those men to take _him_ away from her. 

_He claimed to be serious about her._ The morning after she received the letter on the ship, she’d woken up and started her day certain that W.D and everyone else would see that something was different about her, as if Phillip’s words were somehow etched in her skin, visible for the entire world to see. The doubts were still present, but there was no denying that she was falling for his charms, aching for the day something far more than just letters would happen. 

Her brother had given her a puzzled glare, but she’d managed to avoid him for most of the day, choosing to spend her time with the other women, while daydreaming about replying to his letter. _What could she say that wouldn’t feel completely inadequate after what he’d said?_ After he’d sort of touched her on the deck. For the first time since she wrote her first letter to him, she wasn’t able to come up with anything to say, so there had been no new letters in the last six days. It felt like an eternity. 

***

The day after seeing Phillip with the girls again, Anne joined the other women as they were all headed a shop to spend the day selecting fancy clothes for the Jenny Lind concert

“Hi! You’re from the circus, aren’t you?” Asked an enthusiastic young woman, holding the door open for their group.

Lettie shot the woman her brightest smile. “Yes, we are.”

“Welcome, I’m Maria, please ask me if you have any questions or if you find something interesting. We can do fittings right away.”

Maria’s welcoming demeanor felt so strange to Anne that she retreated into herself, suddenly wishing to be anywhere else. She’d never visited a shop like this one before, as it looked like one where people like her would be thrown out as potential thieves.

Fortunately Lettie was keeping the saleswoman busy so they’d hopefully pay less attention to her while she tried to get a hold of herself. She wanted to look nice for the concert, after all. The problem was that touching the delicate fabrics made her feel like she was snagging an extra helping of dessert without permission. There were so many beautiful ones… 

“Look at this, Anne! This would look fantastic on you!” Exclaimed Lettie suddenly, dragging Anne to another wooden mannequin, this one wearing a turquoise dress with a large butterfly in the front.

“So, what do you think?” Asked the other woman.

“It’s amazing… Just like everything else here,” she murmured back.

“That dress comes with a hat as well,” offered Maria kindly, holding a tiny black hat. “Would you like to try it on, Miss?” She continued, still remaining unusually friendly. As was customary for Anne, she grew suspicious. Phillip had spoken to the shop owner, and she wondered if he was a regular client, if this was where he bought clothes for the white girls he surely- _no._ She really had no right to think that way, after all the man wasn’t hers no matter how he ended his letters. No matter what he said, no matter how special and beautiful he made her feel.

“Yes, please,” she replied. 

Feeling like someone out of a fairytale, she accepted Maria’s help in getting into the dress. It was loose, but she soon had it pinned so that it felt perfect. It _looked_ perfect in the mirror, made her look like a real lady. _If only that could be real._

“I believe we will have to make some alterations, but there’s enough time to have them done in time for the concert.”

She nodded, knowing this was the right dress.

“Jenny Lind who? Anne, you look stunning,” cried Lettie.

“It does suit you well. Is this the one you want?” Asked Maria, standing behind Anne with a tape measure in hand.

She gazed in the mirror again and smiled. “Yes, this is the one.”

Carefully, Maria helped her out of the butterfly dress and took it to the backroom to be altered to fit her body better, allowing Anne to wander off to Lettie. 

“Don’t you want a new dress?” She asked, realizing her friend hadn’t chosen anything.

“I’m going to wear one of my show dresses,” answered Lettie. “Since they’ve already been altered.”

“They said there’s still enough time to make alterations to these dresses,” prodded Anne gently. With all the confidence her friend exuded in the circus and when she sang, it was sometimes tough to see how she was still unsure about her body, as well as the beard. 

“I doubt they’d be able to make them for me.”

Anne sighed, laying a hand on Lettie’s arm. “Lettie…”

“It’s all right, Anne. I’ve got all I need.”

Fine. Anne guessed she was going to have to take matters into her own hands, then. Leaving Lettie, she walked around the shop until she found it. The top of the dress was a brighter turquoise than hers, the bottom the color of water, the fabric smooth and light. _Silk._

“Excuse me?” She spoke, addressing Maria.

“Yes?”

“Would you be able to alter this dress for my friend in time for the concert?”

Maria turned to take a look at Lettie and brought her hand to her forehead to consider something. “We’d have to take her measurements, but I think it could be done.”

“Wonderful. Lettie, come and have a look at this dress!”

While Lettie haad her measurements taken, Anne kept browsing. Another dress that caught her eye. It was a brilliant green, green as the grass in the summer, or like jewels. She’d never owned anything as nice as these dresses, and even this one would take up half of her savings, but she _wanted_ it. Back when her mama was still alive, most of Anne’s clothes had been either her mother’s, altered to fit her smaller frame, or old clothes of her mama’s friends' daughters. Her height had always been a problem, forcing her mama to sew extra fabric to cover Anne’s legs properly. Sometimes the results had been embarrassing, earning more than a few snickers from the other girls in their neighborhood. Learning to do it all herself after her mama’s passing took time, and she still swore she wasn’t nearly as good with a thread and needle as her mama had been. W.D. had refused to let her stop going to school after losing their mama, insisting she _had_ to know how to read and write. To her it hadn’t seemed important at the time, but she now understood and appreciated her brother all the more for that. 

The lessons had taken place at Mr. Williams’s home, where his kind wife had even offered the children food, somehow always knowing which ones had the least to eat. That was how her brother learned to read and write as well, although she prided herself on still being better at it than him. Of course there had been no white kids in their classes, and although she had never thought about it much, some of the others had fantastic stories to tell about white schools, and even more about kids having teachers come into their homes to teach only them. It had sounded strange then, and even now Anne wondered how much of it could be true. And yet she had got attached to someone who grew up like that.

That night she finally wrote to him again.

***

He was on his way home for the night when Anne approached him with a new letter. Nearly all the lights were off already, and there was no one else around. After his last letter to her, he was again uncertain of what to say to her. _Did she return his feelings?_ He suspected she did, but you could never be sure.

“Hi,” she said, holding out the letter. Accepting it, he removed his hat.

“Hi. It- it’s been a while.”

“It has.” She didn’t seem to be upset with him, and there was even a hint of a smile on her face. 

“I hope I wasn’t too straightforward.”

“You weren’t, but it was hard to think of a response.”

Phillip wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, coming from her. He wished there was a way to explain to her exactly why he’d chosen to approach her in the first place, despite it placing both of them, but especially her, into a precarious position. However, she’d surely think he was out of his mind if he started blabbering about the pull of destiny now.

There they stood facing one another, neither one of them in a hurry to leave.

“Will you be joining us at the concert?” She finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course. Barnum’s doing all the work pertaining to Miss Lind, so I’m free to be with you.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Anne.”

***

Sitting at his desk at home, he read her letter again. 

_Dear Phillip,_

_Today I found a dress that I believe will be perfectly suitable for the occasion, I look forward to hearing your comments on it._

_Thank you for clarifying your intentions. Hopefully you understand that I have a hard time believing you would welcome anyone outside the circus knowing about them. As much as I enjoy these letters, I fear that eventually you will realize how damaging they are to your reputation and want nothing to do with me._

_Best,_

_Anne_

_P.S. I enjoyed your newest play very much. I did not know you had so much talent as an actor._

He could hardly deny that she had a point. Nothing had taken place that he couldn’t take back, but surely there had to be ways to make her see. People had watched him trip and drunkenly roll down the stairs of the City Hall and various theaters and clubs after all, so as far as he was concerned, being seen with Anne would be far from embarrassing. And yet people would talk, and stare. Anne deserved an answer, and she’d get it soon, even if he had to stay up all night for it.

_Dear Anne,_

_Any man should be proud to be seen out with you, and I am no exception to that. I am still trying to find my footing in this world, but rest assured, I do not want my intentions to remain a secret forever. Despite what people may think, there is nothing shameful about us. As I told you on the ship, rules can be changed and I believe they are already changing with every new generation. If one day you would agree to venture out with me, what kind of entertainment would you prefer?_

_Yours_

_Phillip_

_P.S. I cannot imagine a day when I would not wish to have anything to do with you. Hurting you is the last thing on my mind, but I would not write to you anymore if that was what you wanted. Yet I believe it would be a waste, as I have never felt a connection like this before with anyone else._

_P.P.S. It makes me very happy to hear you enjoyed it. I’m afraid it may be my most entertaining work so far._

***

To Phillip’s immense relief, they were back to daily letters now. Even a bigger miracle was that she was becoming bolder at the circus, sometimes shooting him a flirty grin as their eyes met in the middle of her rehearsal. 

_Dear Phillip_

_You asked me what I would do if I could spend a perfect evening out. I would go to the theater, because I have been fascinated by it for quite some time now. People like me aren’t wanted on that stage, but yet I feel a kinship with the brave souls who put their masks on every night, much like I do._

_I have only heard of your older plays, and it would be interesting to see if I could spot some part of you if I was to ever see one of them. Do you believe they say something about you?_

_Best,_

_Anne_

He smiled at the letter. Yes, he would love nothing more than to take Anne to the theater, but certainly not to see one of his own plays. 

_Dear Anne,_

_I would sure hope that my older plays say nothing about who I am as a person, and I would not take you to see them if you ever wished to see a play with me. There are far more entertaining plays to be seen. I have never thought of myself as a good storyteller, and most certainly not a performer or an artist. Not like you, your brother, Miss Lutz or anyone else going out on that stage nearly every night. I am not even like Barnum, who has an insane explanation or story for every occasion, and performs even the tallest lies in a rather convincing manner. If anything, I am a talentless fraud and take many things in life too seriously (the last part according to Barnum). Perhaps seeing one of my plays would reveal those things about me. I’m afraid that for most of the young women I used to be around, my best attributes were my wealth and last name._

_Yours,_

_Phillip_

***

The Sunday night before Jenny Lind’s concert Phillip headed to his childhood home, having been invited to dine with his parents. Ever since he’d started his job at the circus, the invitations had been few and far between, and there were a few he’d even politely declined, not wanting to hear the usual tirade of how embarrassing this _little escapade_ of his was. They didn’t understand, and he doubted telling them that this was the most meaningful thing he had ever done in his life would not change their minds. And yet he still remained their son, dutifully allowing their servants to bring him food, even as this place no longer felt like home.

“You don’t suppose that you’ll be back to writing your plays soon?” Asked his mother.

“No, Mother. I rather enjoy the circus.”

His father scoffed.

“Apparently some of the daughters of our acquaintances find your apparent acts of rebellion endearing. People are asking about you.”

“I… There is a woman, Mother.”

She raised her brows, the fork on her way to her mouth stopping before reaching its destination. He supposed this was unprecedented, as this would have been the first time he ever admitted having serious interest in a woman before.

His mother's eyes widened. “There is? Wonderful. What family does she come from, I would love to-“ Naturally they were interested in her pedigree rather than what she was like and why he had taken an interest in her.

“It’s too early to discuss any details,” he quickly insisted. They would not approve of his feelings for Anne, and he didn’t want to have this talk with them yet. _He wasn’t ready._ The world was changing and he still hadn’t given up on the hope of reconciling the two lives he was living. It wasn’t that he needed or even wanted to attend parties regularly, but if he was to do what Barnum wanted, he had to, and he wanted Anne with him, and he wanted his parents to accept them together. Somehow it had to work out. 

“Have you at least been in contact with her family?” Asked his father.

“I have spoken with her brother,” he relented. It was true, after all.

“Excellent. Remember, all arrangements take time,” he reminded.

Phillip nodded, but said nothing, not quite finding the right words to tell them that he would be dealing with this without their involvement. It would only spawn more questions he would prefer not to address at this time. 

To his immense relief, the subject was dropped, and his father predictably moved onto reading some new reviews the circus had gotten. All of them were abysmal, of course, and Barnum had already fumed over them earlier that weekend.

“Phillip, I paid for you to attend _Columbia._ And _this_ drivel is what you decide to waste your life on?”

“It’s called entertainment, Father,” he stated calmly, averting his eyes from his father’s to cut up his steak.

“It’s garbage, that’s what it is! I know I’m preaching to the choir here because you never listen to me, but I’m giving you three months, Phillip. Three months to get out of that hellhole and return to a respectable life.” _Until I disown you._

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the dining room. The ultimatum was a bit of a surprise to Phillip, but he hid the emotion, as well as his pain. “Very well.”

“Does that mean you’re leaving the circus?” His mother asked, hopeful.

He shook his head. “No. I have work to do there, Mother, and I think it’s best that I head there right now.”

“What about dessert?”

“I’ll manage without it. Thank you for dinner, now please excuse me.”

As he sat in the carriage on his way home, he wondered if he’d just left his parents’ house behind for the last time.

***

_Dear Phillip,_

_Are you trying to convince me to stop writing to you? I, for one, am glad that someone working in that office has the ability to take things seriously. I fear the rest of us would be out in the streets soon if you were not here. It is hard to believe that those women would not have found anything else to admire about you. If that is true, then they were foolish and blind to what was in front of them. Others are surely not as stupid._

_Best,_

_Anne_

She’d been tempted to end her letters the way he did his, but making promises such as that one were dangerous. Phillip had taken the risk, and she remained sure he didn’t know what he was saying. After finishing the letter, Anne was unable to sleep, tossing and turning in her bed. There were too many things for her mind to dwell on. Unpleasant memories of the last time she’d been around people like that and now they were less than a day away from a similar occasion. Then there was Phillip, whose kind smile, loving letters and beautiful eyes never ceased haunting her. 

”Anne?”

”Yeah?”

”What’s bothering you? You’ve been quiet lately, and usually you never stop talking.”

Anne smiled, rolling her eyes. _That was an exaggeration for sure._

“So? What is it?”

“W.D… I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted. 

Her brother groaned. “It’s got to be bad, then. What happened?”

“Some of the men at the palace put their hands on me,” she murmured quietly, still shuddering at the memory. She _hated_ thinking about it, instead wishing to bury the memory into some corner of her mind. 

W.D. was dangerously quiet. “Did you fall asleep?” She asked.

“Of course I didn’t, Anne! Why didn’t you tell me before?” He hissed angrily.

“Because if I’d told you about it right away, you would’ve ended up in some English prison! And I can’t lose you, too.”

“Anne-“

“And this is another reason I didn’t tell you! I don’t need your anger.”

“I’m not mad at you! I’m mad that I couldn’t stop it. I’m mad at myself, Anne. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“You didn’t let me down. You’re always here,” she said softly. He’d been their spokesman and looked after her for as long as she could remember, and she’d taken refuge in the safety her brother offered. 

Now that their life was more stable, she’d started having thoughts… Of more independence, of choosing the direction of her life on her own. Seeing W.D. have friends of his own outside the circus, connecting with Phillip the way she had, it made her wonder if staying tethered to her brother was no longer what she wanted. She had wings of her own, she only had to spread them. 

“Even after this you can’t keep your eyes off of _him_ , can you? I’ve seen you smiling at him.”

There was no question in her mind about who W.D. was talking about. 

“He hasn’t touched me without permission. Phil- Carlyle isn’t so bad,” she replied, catching her slip of tongue too late. She hadn’t wanted to think much about what W.D. would say about her and Phillip writing each other, but it had never been a question of if he’d disapprove. _Of course he disapproved._

“You call him Phillip now?”

Burying her head in her pillow, Anne wanted to scream. 

“We’ve… Spoken a few times.”

W.D. grumbled. “You know this can’t end well.”

She _did_ know, but she didn’t want to hear this sermon. “Are you saying there’s no way a man like him could possibly want me for real?” She challenged him.

“It’s the exact opposite. He’s not worth your time, none of them are.”

“And you have no faith in people.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re the one who’s always been even harder to convince. What has he done to get you look at him like he hung the moon?”

Biting her tongue, Anne sat up.

“I don’t want a life where nobody can be trusted.”

“We’re not talking about _nobody_ here, Anne, but a rich white man. Since when has anyone like that ever been worth trusting?”

“We trust Barnum-“ she started, hesitant as she realized that she didn’t mean it. “Okay, we trust him _enough_ to work and live here. I trust that he has principles, and he’s got a great family.” He wasn’t out to cheat them- despite sometimes allegedly forgetting when payday was- or to enslave or hurt them, but that was it, wasn’t it? 

W.D. laughed. “Yeah, he’s not the worst guy we’ve come across, is he?”

“And Carlyle isn’t worse.” _He’s better._

“But he was born into it. Barnum didn’t always have money, so he may actually know a thing or two about what it’s like to be poor. Assuming he remembers. Carlyle has no idea what it’s like. He can never understand you. And you know people like him would never want to be seen out with people like us. Look, there’s the group of men I play cards with. One of them came here to see the show, and he’s been asking about you ever since. You could go out with him if you want to meet someone.”

She scoffed. _Why did he have to be like this sometimes?_

“So, now you’ve pre-approved a man for me? What if I don’t like him?” Any man she met from now on would be compared to Phillip Carlyle, and she suspected most of them would come up short.

“I’m not saying you’ve got to marry the guy, Anne. Give him a chance, he’s much better for you than-”

“You don’t get to decide for me,” she argued.

“So you keep saying. I don’t want to decide for you, I want to make sure you’re happy and safe.”

“Well, either way, the answer’s no. I’m not interested in meeting that friend of yours.”

***

Phillip was left stunned by Barnum’s insistence that the troupe be hidden from view. Maybe he should’ve seen it coming after their trip, but he’d never dared to imagine that… _Where was the respect?_ And yet he forced himself to remain calm and collected as he guided everyone to the box and sought out Anne, standing in the front row. She indeed took his breath away in that butterfly dress of hers. 

It turned out that Jenny Lind could indeed sing. The song temporarily made Phillip’s anger and disappointment towards Barnum disappear, and now he understood what was required of him. Slowly, his heart beating loud in his ears, he reached for Anne’s hand. Her sharp gasp finally gave him the answer he’d been looking for: _yes, she returned his feelings._ The hand under his palm was smaller than his, feminine and dainty but strong because of what she did, and all he could think about was that this was how they were supposed to be. _Side by side, hand in hand._ And yet it wasn’t, because it still wasn’t enough. They should be sitting in one of those boxes where the view was better and the lights could reach them. _Where people could see them._

Then, a minute later, his eyes found the glares of his parents, and his veins were filled with ice and panic.They looked at him as he’d feared they would, possibly wondering if _this_ was the woman he’d mentioned. It was only later that he realized that it was likely they didn’t approve of him standing with the circus performers instead of sitting in a proper box, but to him it was all about Anne, as it often was these days. She was important to him, and he refused to give up on the notion that he couldn’t bring her into his world. The glares of his parents threatened that idea, leaving a curiously hollow feeling in their wake. _There would be no going back._ Letting go of her hand was a reflex, not a carefully thought out act, and he knew it was a mistake the second he committed it. Like a coward, he couldn’t even look at her, terrified of the hurt and disappointment he knew he’d see on her face. 

Perhaps their stares would have been easier to ignore in that moment if he had already faced their disapproval in private, but his own desire to postpone the conversation had led to this. He was just as bad as Barnum with his insistence to hide the group, perhaps even worse, reacting to his parents ire like a scared child would, although _they_ were the ones in the wrong, not him. His place was with the troupe, even if they disagreed, and moreover, his place was with _her_. Or it would be, if she forgave him. 

***

Later on he hid in the office while the others performed, trying to make sense of everything. Anne glared at him from the ground, distaste and anger in her eyes. _She probably hated him._ Now was the time to be the man he aspired to be, instead of someone who only fantasized about worthy of loving. It would never be enough to stand on a dark balcony holding hands, especially if he could only do it when nobody he knew was looking. It wasn’t enough for her, but it wasn’t enough for him, either. Anne wasn’t something to be hidden or be ashamed of. Being with her would mean much more than he’d so far been capable of, but he knew he could do it. He could do better. It wasn’t enough for him to keep their relationship a secret when he wanted an entire lifetime, filled with joy, love and family. If people wanted to stare, so be it. He would only pull her closer. 

Now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get a chance to make things right, but he had to try. Starting right then and there. 

_Dear Anne,_

_I am so sorry, and hope you will give me a chance to make up for my terrible mistake. You are not someone to be ashamed of, and I could never be ashamed to be seen with you. You were the most beautiful woman in that building, which is no exception. I will never be ashamed of what is between us, despite my actions tonight. Once again, I am so sorry._

_It is true that I was raised a certain way, and at times it still is a struggle for me to understand that it is a world I never truly belonged in, and certainly do not belong now. I have no desire for their company, only yours. I am accustomed to many privileges, but the largest and by far most important ambition I have now is to be happy. That short moment I held your hand was one of the happiest I have ever experienced, and I truly regret how it ended. I would do anything to be able to go back to that night and change what I did, but since that is not a possibility, I can only beg for your forgiveness. I can be better and more decisive than that, Anne, and braver than what you saw._

_Yours,_

_Phillip_

_***_

  
After reading the letter the next morning Anne crumpled the piece of paper and threw it in the trash can with the rest of their garbage. She believed he was sorry, but what did that matter? His actions had only made her see how hopeless this entire affair was. He would live in his world and she would stay in hers. How was it possible to experience a moment so perfect that it was as if time itself had stopped for them, only to have it all come crashing down on her within seconds? Everything had felt so _good,_ so _right._

His hand covering hers, his fingers threaded between hers, and in that moment she’d dared to imagine that he wouldn’t let go of her anymore, holding her hand even when the lights came back on and the eyes of the people there would no longer be on Jenny Lind. She’d been safe there, in the box with her friends. _And he’d been with them, standing right next to her, like he belonged there._ Like he was one of them, or at the very least wanted to be. Sadly it had all been nothing but a silly dream, a fantasy a woman her age shouldn’t engage in, something far more appropriate for Helen and Caroline Barnum to believe in. She'd experienced loss before, but this was the first time her heart had truly been broken by a man. And not just any man. It was devastating to still think that she would never find anyone she liked quite as much as him, and still he was the one she couldn't have. 


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Anne,_

_Once again, I am so sorry. Perhaps I should have told you this before, but I visited my parents before the concert. I told them there was a woman I was interested in, but I didn’t tell them it was you. I should have, but I didn’t, and then I saw them staring at us when we were listening to Jenny Lind. I wish I had told them everything before, but I promise that if you forgive me for this, I won’t keep this a secret from them, either. When it comes to my feelings for you, it does not matter what they think, I swear._

_Yours,_

_Phillip_

_Dear Anne,_

_I understand that you may not wish to hear from me again, but I cannot leave things between us this way. There is nothing I would not do to prove to you that you should give me another chance. I may not truly deserve it after what I did, but I still believe there is something special between us and that it is worth preserving. You keep avoiding me at the circus, and from now on I will no longer try to speak to you._

_Yours,_

_Phillip_

After the fourth letter Anne wished he would stop trying to make amends, but at the same time she knew it would be a disappointment to no longer find notes on her dressing table, because it would mean he’d given up. _As she’d always expected him to._ All his beautiful words and even taking her hand… She couldn’t trust any of it. He liked her, she knew that, but this world didn’t give a chance for anything to grow between them. 

The fiasco at the opera served as a painful reminder that there was no room for dreams in her life. She should’ve listened to W.D. If only she didn’t understand what Phillip meant when he talked about there being something _special_ between them. If only she didn’t know that if he ever kissed her, his lips would be soft and gentle, but at the same time they’d both want more than that. There was no such thing as too close when it came to her fantasies of them together. It was terrifying but exciting at the same time. Good girls didn’t have thoughts like these. If that claim was true, then maybe she wasn’t a good girl, and didn’t even want to be one. 

***

Over a week later Anne still wasn’t talking to him, and Phillip wondered if she was bothered by his attempts to fix things. He didn’t mean to harass her. So far she seemed perfectly content to not speak to him, and even happier that he was now leaving her alone. He should probably stop writing to her, too, shouldn’t he?

Barnum was once again out, working on something Phillip suspected was related to Jenny Lind, but so far the man had not let him in on the new plans. 

A knock sounded at the door of the office and he stood up to open it. 

“Hi, is the Big Boss here?” Asked Lettie.

”No, I’m afraid it’s just me this time. Is there something I can help you with?”

”I was hoping for a small change to my routine.”

”Oh. I’m pretty sure I don’t have the authority to approve changes,” he replied, frowning. He was going to have to talk to Barnum about these absences. They were business partners, but he was the one with ninety percent of the ownership. 

”Can I still tell you? And you can tell me what you think he’ll say?”

”Of course.”

Lettie then proceeded to walk him through her entire performance and the lyrics and parts of the choreography she wanted to change. 

“I don’t see why he’d say no,” he finally assured her. She was a wonderful singer and her presence and energy took over the entire stage when she performed, the audience’s love for her evident. 

“Because I’d be taking away time from the jugglers.”

Cocking his head, he wondered if there could be a way to make the best of both acts. “How about you and Barnum figure out a way to incorporate them in with you? It would take work, for sure, but I think it could improve the whole show.”

Lettie beamed at him and before he had time to react, she’d grabbed his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you! This is why I like you so much.”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad I could help.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She inquired.

“I’ve already asked you for too many favors, Lettie.”

“You mean with the letters?”

“Yes.”

“So are you just going to give up? Not try to talk to her anymore?”

“I.. I don’t see what else I can do. She won’t talk to me, practically runs away when I’m anywhere in the vicinity and she’s not answering my letters. I made a big mistake and that’s the end of the story. It’s my own fault,” he sighed. 

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to realize that in your situation, you’ve either got to be all in or completely out.”

He nodded. “I do understand.”

“So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you in or out?”

He’d known the answer for weeks now, knew in his heart that it was _right._ Anything else would surely mean a life lived with regret. “I’m in. For sure.”

Lettie nodded, beaming at him approvingly. “That’s more like it!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Anne’s not willing to speak to me.”

“You worked on plays and yet cannot come up with a romantic gesture to change her mind?” 

“She’s not going to agree to go anywhere with me.”

“Then you don’t tell her! She’s not as tough as she seems, Carlyle. Deep down, she _wants_ you to prove her wrong, you’ve got to know that. Sulk a little less and come up with something.”

Chuckling, he obediently offered her a smile. 

“That’s better,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll figure out the right thing to do.”

“Thank you, Lettie.”

“Anytime. But you should know that you’re extremely lucky that I have a soft spot for you, or I wouldn’t be talking to you anymore, either.”

“I understand,” he sighed. He’d be beating himself up for that mistake for the rest of his life if Anne refused to forgive him. 

***

When Barnum finally showed up later that day, Phillip cornered him. 

“Where have you been?”

”Making arrangements.”

”Something to do with Jenny Lind?”

”Yes.”

”When are you planning on telling me more?”

Barnum shrugged. “When I’ve got all the details figured out. Have some patience, Phillip. It’s going to be amazing.”

”Yeah, I’m sure it is, but you’re barely here anymore, people are asking _me_ for advice on their acts!” He hissed, exasperated.

The older man chuckled. “Is that really such a bad thing? You’re getting the hang of this, becoming a part of this place.”

”You know that’s not the issue.”

”I’m sorry for not being here, alright? But your doing well and the shows are going well, right? Is there something you need right now?”

Biting his lip, Phillip came clean. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to tell Anne that you’ve bought a theater ticket for her. Here are the details on the time and place,” he elaborated, thrusting the piece of paper with the money into Barnum’s hands. 

The man blinked. “I don’t follow, Phillip. Why don’t you ask her to the theater yourself and purchase tickets for both of you?”

It seemed that this time Barnum was the last to know of his mistake and the current state of affairs. “Because she refuses to speak to me.”

“Lovers' quarrel?”

“Not really. I made a huge mistake, to put it mildly.”

“So why should I do this for you, if you’ve wronged her?” There was a twinkle in his eyes, suggesting that he wasn’t entirely serious, but it certainly was enough to make Phillip blush.

“Because I want to make it up to her. Apologize properly.”

“Oh, come on, Phillip! Lighten up! Of course I’ll do it, since you asked so nicely _and_ gave me the money. You can count on me.”

”Thank you.”

Now he had three days to prepare a proper apology. 

***

When Barnum suddenly approached Anne with the offer to send her off to the theater for the evening, Anne was suspicious from the start. _Since when had P.T. Barnum cared about what she did in her spare time or if she ever got to see a play?_ The whole affair reeked of a plot of some kind, but she pretended not to know, determined to enjoy herself either way. She wore the pretty green dress she’d bought a few weeks earlier, covering her shoulders with a black shawl.

Having to pick up her ticket at the entrance made her nauseous, so badly in fact that she stopped a block away from the theater to catch her breath and talk herself into going inside. 

Seeing the two tickets, her natural reaction was to panic. If there had been a mistake, it wouldn’t be Barnum who the blame landed on. To both her relief and horror, Phillip was suddenly standing at her shoulder, claiming the second ticket. So this was a plot after all. She hadn’t talked to him since that Jenny Lind fiasco, but seeing him there still gave her pleasure.

Despite still being hurt by his actions, he was _there,_ and had apparently cooked up this entire scheme to spend time with her in public. It was painfully difficult to stay mad at someone you were as fond of as she was of this man. He couldn’t change the world for her, but even she had to admit that he was definitely making an effort. 

“Wasn’t sure you’d come if I asked you,” he said with a small smile. 

Anne didn’t trust herself to speak, but she wasn’t planning on marching out of the building for now. Phillip was still the only person she would’ve wanted to spend a night like this with. Hope bubbled in her chest when he offered her his arm with no hesitation, and she took it, unsure if it was even possible to be as happy as she was right at this moment. _She was at the theater, wearing a gorgeous dress, with probably the kindest and most handsome man in New York as her companion._

He didn’t look embarrassed to be with her, but seemed rather nervous, as he sometimes tended to be around her. Walking up the grand white staircase, they were like any other young couple. Aside from the fact that she was the only black person in the building, if you didn’t count the waiters. The only one on her way to watch the show. Although she had no idea where they would be sitting, her hands began to sweat. It was only a matter of time until someone stopped them and… There it was, an older couple striding down the steps. Phillip stiffened beside her, but made no move to push her away or to let go of her as he introduced them. _These were his parents._

They were the stuff Anne’s nightmares were made of. Rich, white and judgmental, and she was the object of their hatred because she was currently touching their precious son, tainting him. They probably wouldn’t have shouted insults at her in the street, but seeing her with Phillip made all the difference in their eyes. _How had these people ever managed to raise a son like Phillip in the first place?_

Whatever happened next, she didn’t want to see it. She had to get out of there. It wasn’t fair to make Phillip choose between her and his parents, especially when she already knew she would be the one in the losing end. If only she’d been able to stay mad at him. Now she was the one to let go, and then she ran, all the way back home until she reached her room. Fortunately her brother was nowhere to be found, he was probably out drinking or playing cards with his friends. 

Her hands shaking, her eyes threatening to be blinded by tears, she removed the shawl, the green dress and her jewelry, pulling on her shorts and camisole. There was only one place she could go now. Her hand on the door handle, she considered it once more. Phillip could find her there if he wanted to, but it wasn't him she was hiding from.

***

Phillip was initially surprised by how angry, disgusted and disappointed his parents, especially his father, made him. _How dare they treat her that way? What gave them the right to speak to her like that?_ The look of shock on his mother’s face when he told them he wanted no part of their world would resonate in his mind for a long time, but he regretted none of it, even if he never say his parents again. For as long as they treated Anne that way, he didn't want to hear from them or speak to them.

As he strode down the streets, he was still shaking with rage, wishing he’d said more, been harsher. It took until he was halfway to the circus for him to realize that some of that anger was directed at himself rather than his parents. He should have done this _years_ ago, instead of tolerating their nonsensical rules and extortion to do what they wanted him to do. He should’ve stood up to his parents and lived the life he wanted instead of turning to whiskey.

And he should’ve known he couldn’t live somewhere between the circus and the world where he partied with the New York elite, especially now that he loved Anne. Those people, unfortunately including his parents, would never accept them, at least not in his lifetime. His choice would render him useless to Barnum, although especially after hearing about the high-risk tour the man was now embarking on with Miss Lind, Phillip wasn’t so sure if he even wanted to be useful in that manner ever again. In trying to do his job, he may have ruined everything. 

And he should’ve stood up to Barnum _so many times_ on behalf of their performers. It wasn’t enough to stand with them if he settled on just thinking his partner-mentor was being an _idiot_. There had to be _action,_ he had to speak his mind, too, more than he had.

It was a cool night, but his body was overheating, forcing him to remove his jacket even as he walked. Hopefully there was still a way to rectify at least some things. For now he would have to be in charge of the circus and make sure they survived its founder’s absence. The choice was obvious to him, after all, but he feared it no longer mattered what he chose, because Anne had chosen for both of them. Fiddling with the buttons of his vest, Phillip realized he couldn’t face Anne as long as he was like this. His anger would only serve to drive her further away from him. 

If he could find Anne, perhaps the night could still be salvaged. Tonight was supposed to be about showing and telling her exactly what he wanted from her, proving that he was _all in_ , as Lettie had put it. That part could still happen, assuming she hadn’t gone into hiding. 

***

Even as she reached the ring and all that was now familiar and safe to her, Anne still tried not to cry. Sadly she didn’t think there was any peace to be found there tonight. This was where she’d seen him for the first time, where he’d always come to watch her. 

Phillip had the ability to make her forget all the things she’d ever been taught about dealing with men like him, and insisting that the rules didn’t have to apply to them made it all worse. She wanted to curse the day he’d ever set foot in the circus and seen her performing, but couldn’t. _How could she ever wish him or what they had away?_ Her life had been full of hardship and disappointment, and he’d brought something rare into it. _Hope and light._ Faith that a change could be brewing in this dark world of theirs. 

She and her brother had come here and achieved a comfortable life, and now she wasn’t able to be happy with that. And _that_ was kind of Phillip’s fault, after all. Still, she’d had the choice to ignore him, focus on being happy with her much improved life. _Settle on the good enough._

That was what the older women had told her back when she’d been a motherless teenager. Some of them had found love with good, honest and hardworking men who treated them and their children well. Some were not as lucky, marrying men who drank all their money, leaving little for their families. Sometimes they even hit their wives and kids. It was said that a woman’s job was to settle, it was impossible to have everything, especially if you were black. Like someone who thought she was worthy of more, she didn’t want to settle.

There he was now, again, his vest and jacket gone. Her heart leapt as she realized he was there for _her,_ despite everything, having followed her. She could run away from him, but this was _her home,_ her safe place in the world. And it wasn’t really him she was mad at, anyway. 

***

Knocking on the door of Anne and W.D’s room was risky, but tonight wasn’t a night to focus on what didn’t matter.   
“Anne?” He called out. “It’s me, will you please open the door?” 

  
There was no answer, and he could hear the other doors in the hallway opening. Nobody was speaking, but he knew they were listening. Determining that she likely wasn’t in her room, he strode back towards the stairs. 

  
“Try the ring,” Whispered a voice from behind him. He wasn’t sure who it was, but he nodded.

”Thank you,” he said, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent space. 

She was in the ring, clad in the clothes she often wore for rehearsals during the day, all signs of what should’ve been a wonderful night at the theater wiped away. 

Sighing, he walked to her slowly, before settling on the bench below the one where she sat. He reached out for her to comfort her, but she flinched away, making him drop his hand in disappointment. 

“They’re small-minded people. Why do you care what they think?” He asked softly.

She eyed him, looking at least as deflated as he felt.

“It’s not just them… You’ve never had somebody look at you the way your parents looked at me. The way everyone would look at us,” she said with a shake of her head, as if she couldn’t even stand the thought. 

He didn’t care what his parents thought, he didn’t care what _anybody_ thought. They were beautiful together, and that was the God-honest _truth_ , and if people disagreed, they could keep their opinions to themselves as far as he was concerned. 

As Anne got to her feet and headed for the ropes, he followed, with a mission in his mind. He would give his all to make her listen. 

_Stop fighting me. Stop fighting us. Don’t be scared. We’ll be happy together, I promise._

  
***

Phillip may not have been familiar with the trapeze, but with every second that passed, Anne grew more and more convinced he could dance, probably having been taught to do all those fancy ballroom dances she barely knew anything about. Being used to working hard and the toll it took on her body, she couldn’t suppress a smile when he twirled her around on the ground, wanting to lead. 

Anne’s stomach sank at the sight of him climbing and she resisted the urge to yell at him to get back to the floor right now before he fell and injured himself, or worse. Seemingly unaware of the danger, he jumped to join her, and she was impressed, enchanted, totally seduced and many other things she shouldn’t be when it came to this particular man.

There was no doubt in her mind that if it could be more than a beautiful fantasy, he could show and make her feel things she could’ve never imagined in her wildest dreams. When they were alone, it was ridiculously easy between them, and it wasn’t all her friends at the circus or even W.D. that bothered her, it was what was outside these walls. _Reality._

The government claimed that all people were free now, but how was that true when she still wasn’t free to love who she wanted? When there were people in places like Louisiana who’d gladly own slaves as long as they could keep it a secret from the lawmakers? And didn’t it totally make her insane to wish to be with someone whose family moved in those same circles, even if she was pretty sure Phillip himself didn’t have a single cruel bone in his body?

*** 

They may not have been able to attend the play he’d been planning on, but _this_ was better, tumbling into ground with her, knowing what it was like to be close to Anne, those long long legs of hers on either side of his hips, to hold her in his arms. He wanted to be that close to her, and even closer. _Forever._ When she finally stopped fighting to fly away from him. He always wanted to be there to catch her. 

For a heartbeat he thought he managed to convince her, but then she was gone again, lift on her feet, like a sprite or a fairy someone like him was never meant to catch. After she was gone, he remained on his feet right where she‘d left him, understanding the magnitude of what had just taken place. _It was over, and not because she was mad at him._ It was worse than after the concert. 

As he walked home much later, he found himself reliving the evening over and over. How were they supposed to walk away from something that felt so good? She was perfect in his arms, their movements so in sync it was as if they’d been doing it together for years. Would it have helped if he’d kissed her, like he wanted? She’d come so close to saying yes. He should’ve said the words, the most important ones. _I love you Anne, with all my heart, please give this a chance._

He didn’t blame her for turning him down, but rather the ugly world she had grown up in, all the bad things she had been through that made it impossible for her to believe that something good was indeed happening and made all his efforts futile. 

Staying in his apartment and never seeing anybody again felt like a tempting choice, but he had a job to do. Once Barnum returned, he’d tell him that there would be no more introductions. He could very possibly tell Phillip to get out of the circus, and he was prepared to do that. If that man wanted to destroy his life’s work, Phillip wasn’t going to help him do it.

It was likely that nothing he did or said would make Barnum see the error of his ways, just like he couldn’t make Anne change her mind about them. _What the hell was he even good for?_ There was an opened bottle of whiskey that he had neither drank or thrown out, and now he pulled off the cork and poured some into the nearest glass he could find. Staring down at it, he imagined the headache he’d surely have in the morning if he emptied the entire bottle. 

The next morning the first glass remained untouched and he hadn't slept a single minute.

***

There were no smiles to be found at the circus the next morning. Everyone knew of Barnum’s departure now, as well as of Phillip’s new duties. They glared at him as he passed them, evaluating whether he’d have it in him to look after the place. Right now he didn’t feel strong enough, not by a long shot, but nobody was asking him that.

At lunchtime everyone was conveniently gathered in one place, which was when he decided it was time to address them. Avoiding Anne’s eyes, he cleared his throat as he stood in front of them.   
  
“First of all: do you have any questions for me at this time? I know this must’ve come as a shock to everyone.”

“How long will this arrangement last?” Asked Charles. 

“The tour has quite a few stops, so it could be a few months, unless he decides to come home early,” he replied. 

Anne’s brother shook his head, scoffing. “I can’t believe he’d do this… No, wait. I actually can. It does make perfect sense.”

He understood their disappointment and anger, but what was there that he could possibly say to make it sound better? 

“So, I’m afraid that means I’m in charge of the day-to-day operations for now. I can reach him if needed, though. If you need anything, please let me know.” It wasn’t much of a motivational speech, but there was no way he was telling them that Barnum had told them to be nice to him. _Like he was still an outsider._

***

After their first show with Phillip in charge instead of Barnum, Anne changed out of her costume, wanting nothing but to retreat into her room and pretend to sleep until morning. When she opened the door to the room she shared with W.D., she saw him sitting on her bed, a stack of letters in his hands. 

“What are you doing?” She exhaled, making an attempt to snatch the letters from him, but her brother dodged, refusing to give them to her.

“I could ask you the same thing, you know. These things? Jesus, Anne, they’re dangerous! You wrote him back?” She was embarrassed, angry and sad at the same time, and hearing W.D’s words didn’t make her feel any better.

“Why are you going through my things?”

“I asked you where the clean sheets were this morning, and you told me they were in the closet, remember? So I took sheets from the closet and BAM, these were tucked in the middle of a folded sheet.”

“Give them back.”

“Not until we’ve talked about this. Of course I knew he was up to something, but this is way more than I expected.”

“I never want to talk about him again, okay?”

“Did he do something?”

“God, no! Just… I realized you were right and it could never work out. Nothing’s going to happen, so leave me alone.”

“You should get rid of these before someone else finds them,” he sighed, reluctantly handing over the letters. 

“They’re mine, it’s not up to you to decide what I do with them.”

“You’ve got a bunch of love letters from a white man hidden in _our_ room, so it’s a little bit my business, too.”

“It’s not illegal _here_ ,” she reminded him. Sure, back in Louisiana she could get in real trouble for this. She would never even have dared to walk into a theater there, much less accept Phillip’s company inside.

“No, but we know what the assholes who come to our show almost every night would say. They’d come after us, after _him_ , too, probably.”

_Weren’t they already after all of them, anyway, though?  
_

“I’m not burning them. At least not now.” She should have agreed to throw them away, but she wasn’t ready to let go. The letters were the final tie between the two of them, and giving them up would be the last sign of defeat, of giving up. Of settling. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should go and read my one-shot The Rules of Love before you read this chapter, because chronologically it takes place before this one :) Events from that one-shot are also briefly referenced here!

Weeks after Barnum’s departure, Phillip was surprised to find his wife behind the door of the office he now occupied alone.   
  
“Hello Phillip,” she greeted with her characteristic kind smile. “I hope I’m not disrupting your work.”

”Of course not. Please come in, Charity,” he replied, moving aside to let her inside. “Are the girls here, too?”

”Yes, they are. I left them with Lettie."

”I hope they'll find that things haven't changed for the worse," he joked.

Charity cocked her head. “This place seems to be running well with you in charge.”

Phillip shrugged. 

“How are you faring with him gone?” He asked.

Charity smiled, but the expression didn’t look genuine. Kind of like his own smile these days. “We’re all well. I… We’re just quite used to having Phin around, so it takes time to get used to.”

He nodded. “I understand.” Or at least he wished he did. When you had no experience of a long, loving relationship or solid marriage, you could only try to understand. The only part he did now get was the love part. For the first time in his life he truly loved someone, like Charity loved her husband. 

"I hope it's not a problem if I bring still bring the girls here from time to time."

Shaking his head, he finally helped her out of her coat. "All of you are always welcome here."

“Thank you, Phillip. I don’t think they mind having all this time with me, but seeing everyone here- especially you- matters a lot to them.”

Flashing scarlet, he tried to wave it off. The girls had become important to him, but surely-

“Don’t look so embarrassed,” chuckled Charity. “You do know how much they like you. You’re very good with them. You don’t have any younger siblings, do you?”

Glad to change the subject at least a little, he shook his head. “No, I do not.”

“Me neither. Phin was the only other child I saw and spoke with for many years. It was quite lonely growing up like that, I imagine it must’ve been the same for you.”

“It was.”

“I heard you took Anne to the theater… And that you said _a few_ things to your parents.”

“News travels fast,” he laughed tensely.

“People talk, Phillip. They talked about me too, as I’m sure you know. They _still_ talk about me when nothing more interesting is going on.”

Of course he was familiar with the story of Charity Hallet, it had been told at every presumably respectable household in the region, usually at dinner tables or parties, sometimes in scandalized whispers. _Poor impressionable girl took on the first boy she saw and abandoned her family after finishing school. A tailor’s son that barely owns the clothes on his back. Married him, and now lives with him in some rat-infested room in the city. No money, no future, no reputation._

Despite the smidgen of truth hidden in the claims, most of it was bullshit.

What would be said about him?

_Ran off to join a freak circus, even brought a negro girl to the theater once. Haven’t seen him since, probably too embarrassed to ever show his face again. No money, no future, no reputation._

It didn’t matter to him what was said, but he did wish for a different ending. He would’ve gladly taken _ran off to join the freak circus, now lives with that girl he brought to the theater once._

He nodded. “I know. As for me… I don’t think they’ll have to talk about me and Anne anymore. I tried something and it didn’t work out, she won’t be going anywhere with me again.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Does it bother you? The gossip, I mean?”

“No. Not being with her, that’s what bothers me.”

“What about your parents?”

“What about them?”

“I suppose you’re not on speaking terms.”

“That’s a correct assumption. Frankly, I think this works for all of us.”

“You know, I think they’ll regret it.”

“With all due respect, I very much doubt that.”

“They raised a good man, Phillip. I’m sorry if they can’t see that being open minded and kind are strengths, not weaknesses.”

“Do you still talk to your parents?”

Charity fidgeted awkwardly. “My mother has been writing to me since we ran into them… She wants to meet the girls. I haven’t returned the letters and we haven’t seen them, but…”

“It’s hard to say no?”

“Exactly. I’m doing it for Phin’s sake, since my parents still don’t accept him or my decision to marry him, but sometimes I wonder if I’m harming my girls by keeping them from my parents. I don’t want them to become pawns in this… Ridiculous rivalry or whatever it is that’s been going on with Phin and my father for decades now. If you want a piece of advice, I’d say to never feel like you have something to prove to a certain person you don’t even truly value.”

Chuckling darkly, Phillip shook his head. “Thankfully that isn’t an issue for me.”

He wasn’t out to prove anything to his parents. However, there were many others he did want to prove his worth to. Anne. Her brother. Lettie. Barnum. Everyone else at the circus. Proving himself to them was a whole other issue.

After Charity had left to collect her daughters, Phillip left the office, planning to speak to O’Malley. A pink scarf lay right in front of the office door, most likely dropped by Charity. Reminding himself to send it to her as soon as possible, he picked it up and stuck it in his pocket before hearing someone shouting his name from the ground level. 

“There’s someone here to see you!” Yelled O’Malley.

“I’ll be right there,” he promised, already descending from the office.

He recognized the young man at their entrance immediately. It was Trevor, one of his father’s servants.

“Good day, Mr. Carlyle. I was asked to give you this,” said Trevor, handing him an envelope. 

With a sigh, he accepted it. _So this was it._ It also explained the somber look on Trevor’s face.

“Thank you, Trevor. I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing each other anymore, so good luck with everything,” he told the young man, holding out his hand.

Trevor stared at the hand at first, but then grinned at him and shook it enthusiastically. “Same to you, Mr. Carlyle.”

Phillip felt nothing even as he tore the envelope open, knowing this letter would be very different to all the ones he’d received recently. If anything, there was a tiny rush of relief. There would be no more running out of his parent’s home, no more blackmail. There was nothing they could take from him anymore. This would only make what he already knew more official, it wouldn't change anything.

_Phillip,_

_Your unseemly behavior at the theater is unforgivable. Instead of acknowledging our mistake and making amends for it, you chose to further escalate the situation. I cannot even begin to describe how thoroughly you have upset your mother._

_Your refusal to apologize for what you did and convince me that it would never happen again has left me with no other choice but to announce that from now on, I no longer consider you my son. Naturally you are no longer entitled to any of your former privileges, including but not limited to your inheritance. You are also no longer welcome in our home._

_Regards,_

_Arthur P. Carlyle_

None of the contents of the letter came as a surprise, but it was still rather shocking to read that he was now officially without a family. It was a good thing that the furnaces were hot, because it was exactly where this letter deserved to end up. Calmly, he opened the hatch and threw the piece of paper into the nearest one, careful not to singe his fingers for something as worthless as this. 

A little over six months ago he would’ve been drinking the night away more or less happily, listening to rumors on the newest scandals. Now he _was_ the scandal. 

***

The days passed and turned into weeks, but so far time and done nothing to ease the pain Anne felt. She hadn’t even tried moving on, had she, though? She couldn’t get Phillip or that play of his out of her head. Every night she thought about him, wondering if he was sleeping as badly as she was. If he too wondered what it would be like to have her beside him as he slept. After finding Phillip’s play and reading it, she wanted to believe he did, and that she wasn’t alone in her pain and longing. 

She watched him work, do things he was probably not used to doing. It may have been strange, but she enjoyed watching him put in the physical effort. Every single day her resolve to stay away and forget about him took another hit and became tougher to maintain. But she fought the urge to go to him, because if being with Phillip was inevitable, then what control did she have over her life anymore? 

She’d stopped going to church after her mama’s death, but W.D. still sat in the pew every Sunday morning. To her teenaged self, admitting that God existed meant that she also accepted that He had taken her mama away from her, and there was no way she was worshiping any god who did that. It was better to believe in nothing but herself and her brother. Giving someone like Phillip to her would have felt like a benevolent deed, but as long as they couldn’t be together, it was nothing but a cruel joke. 

Now Anne watched as Phillip picked up something from the ground in front of his office. Something that looked way too pink and feminine to belong to him. It wasn’t hers either, or anyone else’s who worked at the circus. Anne swallowed hard. _A woman had visited Phillip at the circus._ It may have been a little out there as far as conclusions went, but she couldn’t stop thinking that this was it. This was how fast she’d been wiped out of his mind. Words were cheap after all, it was actions that mattered. 

As they prepared for the evening’s show, she left it up to Lettie to keep the conversation alive.

“You’re even more quiet than you’ve been lately. Is everything okay?” She asked.

Dabbing her puffy eyes, Anne shook her head. “It’s all good, Lettie.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” sighed the older woman softly.

“I’ll keep telling myself that until it’s true again.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

”There’s no other way. But I think it’s great that you believe otherwise.”

“He’s done well here, doesn’t seem like someone who’d bail on you.”

“We’re not talking about a few months-“ It was also most definitely _not_ just about that, at least not anymore. 

“But a lifetime?”

Embarrassed to have revealed too much, Anne turned away from Lettie. “I can’t be what he wants.” Obviously he’d found it rather easy to get over her. 

“Or maybe you’re just afraid of not being able to be what he wants. If I’ve ever seen a man in love, it’s that young man.”

There was no way that could be true, not with what she’d seen. 

“I need to move on,” she sighed, shaking her head.

After the show she spotted W.D. deep in conversation with another black young man. One of his card buddies, most likely. 

“Hi,” she piped in, grasping her brother’s arm. 

“Hey, Anne. This is Joseph Barnard, we play cards a few times a week. Joseph, this is my sister, Anne.”

“Pleased to meet you, finally. Great show tonight.” Joseph smiled at her as he removed his hat, bowing lightly. _Was this the man who had asked W.D. if he could take her out?_ He seemed pleasant enough, and most importantly, was nothing like the man who still regularly consumed her thoughts. Joseph was full of confidence even as he looked into her eyes, not at all like… There was nothing there. No magic, no stopping time, no buzzing in her head. She shook her head. _No._

“Thank you.”

“I’ve already tried asking your brother here, but… I would love to take you out to dinner sometime. Is that something you could consider?”

Her brows shooting to her forehead, she bit into her lip. She was being offered a way out, wasn’t she? W.D. liked this guy, anyway, so what harm could come to her? Just because she wasn’t truly interested in him didn’t make her a bad person, did it? There was a small chance that could change after all, right? Especially now that Phillip was forgetting about her, too.

Then she felt herself nodding. “Sure. The night after tomorrow? We don’t have a show that night.”

“That’s fine. You two live here, right? So I’ll be here at seven.”

“Great.”

Once Joseph was gone, W.D. stared down at her, suspicion clear in his dark brown eyes. “Really, Anne? _Now_ you’re saying yes to him?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m moving on,” she claimed, striding away from him even though she could hear him mutter behind her back. 

***

Two days later they didn’t have a show, and Phillip decided it was time to go through maintenance needs with O’Malley. As they were figuring out a schedule to get everything done soon enough, he suddenly smelled perfume. _Anne’s_ perfume, to be more exact. He turned to see her pass them, dressed in a lovely blue dress he’d never seen before. Stomach sinking, he realized she was going out, dressed very nicely. Probably not headed to the theater, but still… _Was she meeting another man?_

She paid him no attention on her way out of the circus, not even a cursory glance. Longing for his flask more than ever before, he ordered himself to breathe. One breath at a time. _Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale._

“I’ll do this one myself,” he told O’Malley tensely. 

The older man shot him a dark look. “I _can_ paint,” Phillip argued with a growl, reasonably sure he was fully capable of painting a damned _prop._ He wasn’t Michelangelo, but neither was anyone else present, especially O’Malley himself. He _needed_ to do something to keep his mind occupied, otherwise he was likely to run after Anne and inevitably ruin her night while making himself look like an absolute clown.

A couple of hours later he was feeling worse, not better, and still only a quarter of the paint job was done. 

A delicious smell of food wafted into his nose, accompanied by a pair of steps and then a voice. “Want some pumpkin soup?”

“Thank you, I’m not really hungry,” he sighed as Lettie held out the bowl to him. It smelled good, but his stomach still hadn’t stopped churning.

“Anything else I can do for you?” She asked.

“No… Well… Would you- would you happen to know where Anne went?” He asked. After all, Lettie was mostly discrete and knew of his feelings for Anne.

Lettie grimaced. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s… Not any of my business, anyway.”

“She went out with a man who works at the docks. He’s come here a few times, and W.D. plays cards with him sometimes.”

Every word was like an ice pick in his heart, but he made himself nod.

“I see,” he replied hoarsely, then cleared his throat.

“Phillip, you have a lot to offer _anyone_.”

He smiled at the offered kindness, although the words couldn’t have felt further from the truth. It also seemed to mark the end of an era, as Lettie had always believed in him and Anne. 

“Thank you, but I think I’ll just stick to my own company from now on. I wish…” he trailed off. 

“You wish what?” She asked.

“That I’d let it be.” Settling on admiring Anne from afar had been an option once upon a time. And yet he had chosen otherwise, fueling his own interest in her by contacting her, and somehow she’d felt it too. It would surely hurt less now. 

“I wish I was the person you all here expected me to be.” He wished his former life had mattered to him enough to keep himself away from her. 

“That’s a horrible thing to wish for.”

“That bad, was it?”

Lettie shrugged. “People had a lot of thoughts, you don’t know even half of them. If you were anything like that, we’d be in so much trouble now.” They could potentially be in so much trouble that there was no way out of it, but he wasn’t going to burden Lettie or anyone else with that knowledge. It was up to him to sort things out and keep this place afloat, after all.

“I wish we’d never gone to see the Queen. Barnum would still be here.”

“The whole thing with that singer? It’s not your fault. He made the choice to leave us, he’d still be here if he cared. If it hadn’t been Jenny Lind, something else would’ve taken him away.” She sounded sad, and Phillip wished there was something he could say to make her feel better, but he couldn’t think of anything to say in Barnum’s defense. 

“He’s always wanted something more. A new performer, a new routine. He _never_ stops,” mused Lettie.

Phillip nodded. Perhaps he and Barnum had that in common; never being satisfied with what they had. Always wanting for the impossible. The only difference was that while he had only hurt two people, Barnum’s gamble could bring ruin on the entire circus. 

“Do you think you and Anne would’ve been happy together?”

“Yes, I really do. That’s why… Why I held on so long. But I’m sure she’s making the right call for herself.”

“I hope that you find peace, and even understand why she couldn’t be with you. You’re a good man, and you should never forget that.”

Forcing a smile on his face, he stood back up. 

“Thank you for dinner, but I would like to be alone now, if that’s all right.”

“I’ll leave the soup here, in case you change your mind. Come find me if you change your mind about the company.”

“I will… And thank you for telling me the truth.”

“I don’t feel too good about it myself, I’ve got to admit.”

“The truth’s always better than the alternative. Even if it hurts.”

The paint brush flew all over the wooden prop, his movements angry. _Red red red red more red._ Until he could no longer see through his tears. He could hear his father’s voice in his head. _What an embarrassment you are. Stop weeping like a little girl and man up._

It wasn’t that he had expected things to _always_ stay the same. Or that Anne wouldn’t attract the interest of quite possibly several perfectly acceptable men. He just… 

He hadn’t expected to have to face this _so soon…_ While in truth, this could have happened two years from now and he would still be feeling like this. Recently he’d spent more time _feeling_ in general, everything aside from the indifference he’d been so used to. Maybe he should be grateful for that, but right now he wanted it all to stop. 

Quickly he scrambled to the office, locking the door. Before he even thought about what he was doing, he was already writing.

_Dear Anne,_

_Tonight I am finally seeing the truth. I have always known you were far too wonderful for someone who’s lived the life I have, but I didn’t want to accept it. My actions have caused you pain, but I hope that with this new beginning you can move forward. You deserve the best life has to offer, and that includes a good man, if that is what you want._

_I am glad to have been part of your life and to have known some of you, as brief as it was. It is impossible to express how profoundly I have changed, and much of it is thanks to you. I still remain convinced that what is between us is worth risking it all for, but I also know that I cannot ask that from you. There is so much of your life I do not know, but I can tell it has not been easy. You deserve easy, and happy and comfortable, you deserve to have everything you could ever want._

_Always yours,_

_Phillip_

He did mean all of that. Except not really, but at least he could admit he was selfish and that she'd been right all along about him not knowing what he was getting into. There was a trashcan underneath the desk, which was where the letter ended up. He couldn't send or give her something like this, at least not yet. That was the problem with goodbyes; sometimes they were impossible. 

It was all so simple for some, would have been for him too, if he’d just fallen for a girl from his world, even if she didn’t have the money his family did. Now it could be simple for Anne. The man had asked for her company, and she had said yes. Now they were out. While his parents had ruined the one chance he had to enjoy some time alone with her. Just because he liked to think it wouldn’t have made a difference didn’t mean it was true. 

Regrets never led anywhere, but he had to wonder if maybe things would be different… If he’d just resisted his initial instinct to let go of her hand under his parents’ stares. _Would that have convinced Anne that he didn’t care how people looked at them, that he wanted to share his life with her? Would he have been enough?_

 _No. He wasn’t enough, whatever he felt or did wasn’t enough._ It was up to him to let go of her, as she was already doing when it came to him. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, and headed out the door. 

***

The tiny Creole restaurant they were in was packed with rowdy people, celebrating Friday night. The food was tasty and reminded Anne of her mother’s home cooked meals, leaving a warm, pleasant feeling in her gut. She wouldn’t have minded just sitting there and eating all night, but W.D’s friend Joseph wouldn’t stop talking.

He told her about his job at the docks and of his family home outside the city where his parents still lived, then asked her about growing in Louisiana with W.D. and their mama. She could see why W.D. liked him, but she still felt _nothing_ , her heart cold as ice. With every minute she spent with Joseph, the more sure she grew that she could not live the rest of her life like this. It was pathetic to sit there wondering if Phillip would like the food, if he liked spicy food in the first place. 

“You’re very skilled at what you do,” he complimented between bites.

“Thanks.”

“How long do you think you’ll still do it?”

She shrugged. “It depends, I can’t say for sure.” Eventually her body would grow too old, assuming Barnum wouldn’t replace her with someone younger and more agile way before that. 

Joseph grew thoughtful.

“It’s not really something a married woman should do though, is it?”

“It’s not?” She asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Joseph laughed nervously. “Of course not. There are plenty of good jobs for women around here.”

Although she was willing to work hard for a living, this was what she wanted to do. What she was happy doing for now. 

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. A woman‘s got to work for a living after all.”

”Of course.”

”And I’m not interested in being a wife,” she continued. Not entirely true, but true enough for Joseph.

”You’re not?”

”Did my brother say I was?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. I just thought, that since you agreed to come with me-“

”That I was looking for a husband?”

”Well, yeah.”

Swallowing, she pushed her plate away, having finished eating. “Well, you thought wrong. I'm sorry, but it's getting late and I'd like to go home now."

Joseph gaped at her, his mouth open in astonishment, but nodded. “I’ll walk you.”

***

Breathing in the night air outside the circus, Phillip thought he was going to have a chance to cool down and stop himself from becoming totally undone. He had to control his emotions better, after all he was in charge of this entire circus now. Tonight he wished he felt _less,_ but could find no way of stopping. Tonight he would drink whatever he got his hands on, which at the moment- adding to his agony- was exactly _nothing_. 

The sight of the pair of tall figures emerging from a side street made him groan. This couldn’t be happening. But yet it was. Running away was a possibility he entertained, but Anne and her companion were too close by then. 

Then Anne was looking at him for the first time in at least two weeks, and her eyes were both pleading with him as well as sending him a warning. _Don’t act familiar. Don’t embarrass me in front of this man who belongs in my world, unlike you._

“This is Phillip Carlyle, he’s Mr. Barnum’s business partner,” she introduced him. “This is Joseph Barnard, he’s a friend of W.D.’s.”

“Great to meet you, Mr. Barnard,” he murmured, shaking the man’s hand as if he wasn’t jealous to the point of madness. 

Mr. Barnard stared at him and then his hand as if he was confused as to why it was being offered.

“You too, Mr. Carlyle. You- you run a great show.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe I’ll be back to see it again at some point.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” He swallowed, Anne’s silence suddenly perplexing him. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Barnard. Have a good night, Miss Wheeler.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carlyle,” she replied formally, before Phillip marched away from them, stopping beside the nearest street lamp. 

_Was he really supposed to pretend he didn’t know her whenever someone from outside the circus was around? Could this really be what she wanted?_

***

“He’s strange, even for a white man,” mumbled Joseph as he watched Phillip walk away.

“Mr. Carlyle is a good man,” Anne snapped, wishing he’d bid her a good night and leave already. There was no way she was seeing him again. She didn’t think she could meet _any_ man ever again. This had been a stupid mistake. Phillip’s red rimmed, dead eyes, the red paint all over him and his vacant gaze were more than she could take. She wanted to ease his pain while he eased hers. Wanted to steal another moment when nothing and nobody existed aside from the two of them. 

“Good night, Joseph.”

“Good night, Anne. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Yeah.” At least he seemed to understand that there would not be another dinner or anything else coming up. 

When Joseph finally had the good sense to leave her, Anne turned to Phillip. 

“You’ve got paint all over your shirt,” she blurted out, unable to come up with anything else. 

“I am aware of that,” he claimed, his voice steady. _Why couldn’t he even turn to look at her?_ “I’ll have it washed.”

Carefully approaching him, she stopped a couple of steps behind his back.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Shouldn’t you go inside? It’s not safe out here.” His voice betrayed no anger, but he sounded tired. _Defeated._

“I’m not afraid. I’m with you.” He kept leaning into the light pole, arms hanging at his sides limply.

More than anything, she wanted _him_. She wanted this torture to stop. And yet she was scared of the misery and even death they could bring upon themselves. Of the possibility that one day he’d leave her, just like everyone else had done. _How could she have thought he’d decided to move on?_ She didn’t know the story behind the scarf, but it had to be far more innocent than what her paranoid mind had come up with. 

Her heart wouldn’t allow her to return inside and leave Phillip standing in the street. Her feet carried her to him fast, and she slipped her arms around him, leaning into his back. He stiffened at first, but then his hands found hers. Instead of removing them from him, he held on. It had been entirely too long since she'd last touched him while they were both aware of it. It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed stroking him as he slept, but this was far better in every way. 

Anne closed her eyes, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. She _loved_ the feel of him. So warm, solid, his hands holding hers tenderly, his skin smelling of expensive cologne, paint and sweat. It was entirely inappropriate to stand in the street and remain so close to him, but she didn’t care. _This_ was where she was happy. If she couldn’t belong in Phillip's world or the one her brother lived in, they should make their own.

”Can I do anything for you?” He asked, finally turning around.

“I just… I didn’t have a very good night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Just something Joseph Barnard said… It didn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m sorry I brought him here.”

“This is your home, you can bring anyone you like here.”

“You really do have _a lot of_ paint on your shirt,” she noted, her eyes on the crisp white shirt covering his chest and the red splotches on the fabric. 

He looked down, reaching up to unbutton the shirt. Taking another step closer, she pushed his hands away. He gave in without protest, his hands falling to his sides.

Unbuttoning Phillip’s shirt for him was the most intimate act she had ever engaged in with a man, and it made her feel alive. _He_ made her feel alive, his body radiating heat, warming her cold fingers. Being so close to him eased her pain. It was temporary, and she would feel worse later, but right now this was all she wanted. Her breath hitched as she felt his forehead settle against hers. He was so close she could smell the paint and sweat on him, as well as his cologne. No liquor. Lifting her eyes, she met his, they sparkled at her like the ocean on a sunny summer day. Slowly, his hands parted her coat and slipped in, landing on her waist. She brushed the shirt off his shoulders, leaving him wearing only his undershirt. Still she held his gaze, not wanting the spell to break. Because that was what it was between them. Like magic or sorcery.

“Please, don’t,” she begged, closing her eyes, knowing he was about to kiss her. If he did, she’d give in, sink into him and never resurface. It would just hurt all the more when he eventually left her behind. 

Phillip said nothing, but moved, and soon she felt the brush of his lips against her forehead. 

“It’s going to be alright,” he swore, his voice a whisper.

It was a lie, because it wouldn’t be alright if they weren’t together. She didn’t want that future, but one where he would _always_ be there, where she could go to sleep knowing his handsome face would be the last thing she saw before falling asleep and the first thing she saw after waking up in the morning. 

“I’d take this pain from you if I could,” he continued, making it impossible for her to stop the tears from falling.

“I know,” she sobbed. “You’re the only one I want.”

“Still?” He asked.

She gave a tiny nod. _Always._

“Just so you know, it’s _very_ hard not to kiss you right now.”

She smiled at that. “Noted."

As she leaned into his shoulder, and when he did the same, she became aware it wasn’t only her who needed comfort. It could not be easy to run the circus on his own. _Could it be wrong if they needed each other?_

***

Suddenly he was wrenched away from Anne so forcefully that he toppled into the streetlight behind them, the back of his head painfully hitting the metal.

“Get away from her!” Yelled someone.

Pain clouded his vision and he sank to the ground as his ears rang. _Had the protesters found them?_ He had to get to his feet to help Anne, unless she’d already run away. 

“Joseph, no! Leave him alone, it’s not like that! Phillip, can you hear me?” She was kneeling beside him, her hand on his cheek. 

“I’m fine,” he slurred, his head still hurting.

“You’re one crazy woman. He’s white and _your boss_!” Yelled the man behind Anne.

That was when he finally caught up to the situation.

It was Anne’s date from that night, returned to the circus for some unfathomable reason.

“I came back because I wanted to apologize to you. Now… You’re really nothing but a white man’s-“

Using the lamp post to pull himself to his feet, Phillip strode over to the man who stood several inches taller than him, putting himself between him and Anne. 

“Don’t finish that sentence. Get out of here.”

“You going to fetch the police, boy?”

Phillip swallowed, anger constricting his chest. “I’m not interested in trouble, but you’re not welcome here if you call her that. _Leave.”_

“What if I don’t? This is a free country, people like you don’t get to have all the power even if you think you do.”

He wasn’t backing down. 

“Phillip, don’t-“ warned Anne. 

“This is my circus, Mr. Barnard.” At least for the time being and for the purpose of this situation, it was true.

“Joseph, please leave,” she pleaded, and Phillip could hear the fear in her voice. He wished he could take her hand and promise he wasn't going to do anything to this man, but she would just reject him again.

The man took a step back. “You make me sick, both of you,” he hissed, before finally doing the smart thing and striding away from them, into the night. 

“Good choice,” he grumbled quietly at Mr. Barnard’s retreating back.

“I didn’t need you to defend me,” said Anne, her voice stern, even angry. 

His own frustrations boiled close to the surface, threatening to escape. Except that arguing with her wouldn’t do him any good, especially when she was right. Sort of. He _was_ her boss for the time being at least, and shouldn’t a good boss stop their employees from being insulted like this? “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know it’s not… That you don’t want it to be my business.”

She had her arms wrapped around herself when he turned to look at her. “Let me have a look at your head,” she insisted, effectively finishing their argument. _Why did even fighting with her make him happy?_

“It feels fine now.”

“Liar,” she murmured. “We should go inside.”

Everyone else seemed to be asleep when they entered the circus, Anne running off in search of bandages and water as she left him waiting beside the ring. 

“I’m sorry for making life harder for you,” he said when she returned to examine the back of his head and neck. “Not just with people like my parents, but with-“

“The kind of people I grew up with, the kind of men who people expect me to marry?” She asked.

“Yes. I can’t believe he said that to you.”

“I can… It wasn’t very original, you know? Besides, I came to _you_ tonight, so I should be the one to apologize. You got hurt because of me.”

“It’s just a bump.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “You’re talking to someone who’s fallen and hit her head more than once, so I think I’m the expert here. You should see a doctor,” she finished, still dabbing the cut on his head to wipe off the blood. 

Phillip sighed. “Will you not worry if I promise to do that tomorrow?”

“Well, it sure is better than nothing,” she replied, before clearing her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

”You can ask me anything, Anne.”

”Whose scarf was it that you found the other day?”

She watched as confusion took over his features. He seemed to have no idea what she was even talking about.

”Scarf? Oh... No, I remember now. It was Charity Barnum’s, she dropped it on her way out. I... I think she’s upset about her husband being gone for so long.”

Releasing a breath she hadn’t fully realized she was holding, Anne nodded. “Makes sense.”

”Can I ask you a question too?”

”Sure.”

”Why were you so curious about the scarf?”

Ashamed of her own stupidity, she shrugged. “Like you said, I was _curious_. I am a curious sort of person.”

”Now I think _you’re_ lying.”

In spite of herself and the situation, she smiled sheepishly. “Good night, Phillip. See a doctor tomorrow.”

”I will. Good night.”

An hour earlier she'd been fired up, ready to yell at her brother. Now she was tired and annoyed that Phillip was no longer around, and besides, W.D. was sound asleep when she threw the door open, snoring loudly enough to keep her awake and make the cups on her tiny table shake. With a sigh, she changed and got into bed, keeping her light on as she found a pencil and a piece of paper. 

_Dear Phillip,_

_Today was hard, but the ending was the best part, because you were there. I am sorry for jumping into conclusions about the scarf, but I do not believe it’s a part of me that can ever be truly silenced. W.D. has often teased me about always thinking the worst, no matter the situation. He believes pessimism like that is only sometimes necessary. Either way, I feel like I should apologize for thinking so little of you. You have exceeded my expectations and proven me wrong more than once. I am still not good at taking risks, because I can ill afford them. Yet if I was a woman who took risks, you are the one I would take._

The scariest part was that it was a risk she at times- such as tonight- considered taking. She didn’t believe he would’ve pushed her away if she’d sat down beside him and taken his hand. She entertained the thought of leaving the letter on Phillip's desk, but decided against it. It wouldn't help him.

***

It was Anne’s bedside lamp that woke up W.D. _How was she still awake?_ He heard the soft crumpling of paper and a sniffle.

“Anne?” He called out.

“Yeah?”

“How was your night?”

“Oh, your friend was a real _treat_ , W.D. Started telling me that my job wasn't appropriate for a decent, married woman, and later started smacking Phillip around _and_ running his mouth. All over the course of only a few hours. I think it must be a record of some kind.”

“What did he say? And why did he attack Carlyle? Were you with _him_ again?”

“The usual, it was nothing I hadn’t heard before.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he regretted ever agreeing to introduce Joseph to his sister. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s lucky Phillip didn’t want to bring the police here.”

“You still haven’t told me what led to that _.”_

Anne fell quiet, and W.D. sensed she was considering her words very carefully. Better late than never. 

“I was upset, not just about what Joseph said, but about everything. He was outside… And I… I didn’t want to talk to you or anyone else. Joseph came back, and figured Phillip was doing something I didn’t want.”

"But he wasn't?"

"God, W.D. _No._ "

"Just making sure, that's all. What happened then?"

She didn't answer him, her silence telling W.D. that he'd better start looking for new card buddies. "I've got to ask you again: what did he say, Anne?"

"Nothing surprising. I don't want to get into it, really. It's not worth it. But I don't think he wants to see me again. He might say something to you."

"About you?"

"Yeah, me and Phillip."

"I'll look for new friends."

"I'm sorry I ruined this for you."

"You haven't ruined anything, Anne," he sighed.

“I’m not seeing Joseph again. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? I thought you’d fight me on this.”

“You’ve made up your mind,” he murmured. “Doubt there’s anything I can do. Besides, you obviously don't like the guy. It happens.”

There was more rustling, confirming to W.D. what he’d suspected. She was reading those damned letters of hers again. Although he’d always been wary of Carlyle’s interest in Anne and seeing them talking or her with the letters had made him mad, the more he watched his sister suffer and yearn for that man, he understood what would eventually happen. Now it was a matter of time and whether he wanted to keep his sister or not, because what he feared the most was that they would run away together, never to be seen again. 

He couldn’t change the world even for his sister, but he could choose to make the most of the situation, hopefully making it a little bit better for her. Carlyle was as good of a man as W.D had ever met, although he'd rather skin himself alive than actually admit this out loud. The man could bear his share of adversity.

“Anne?”

“What?”

“You… You love him, don’t you?” He asked. She may deny it, but he wasn’t _that_ slow.

“I don’t think you want to hear the answer,” she said quietly.

“So it’s not a _no_ , then?”

“No. It’s not a no.”


	7. Chapter 7

As the weather grew colder, their audiences dwindled, with people chose to spend their free time at home in front of their hearths rather than a circus where it was supposed to be warm, but where Phillip sometimes found himself shivering when the ring was empty. He wrote to Barnum, not truly expecting to get much advice in return, but certainly anything was better than nothing at this point. 

_Phillip,_

_I share your concern with the status of our finances. Therefore I suggest that you head out to a suitable affair of your choice and find us some wealthy investors. I trust that you’re up to this task despite your recent arguments with your parents._

_Regards,_

_P.T. Barnum_

Phillip groaned after he finished reading the short letter from the man who was supposedly his business partner and boss. _Arguments?_ That was the understatement of the year for sure. He hadn’t attended a single party with his former crowd since that night at the theater with Anne, and he had absolutely no interest in venturing out. It was depressing enough to trudge through life every day without her, and now he was supposed to convince people who hated them all- as well as everything they represented- to hand out money.

The idea left a bad taste in his mouth, but a bigger problem was that he understood where Barnum was coming from. They needed to do something, and raising ticket prices would only serve to drive their audience away. 

Nowadays he only received invitations to parties every now and then, but right now there was one that was suitable for the purposes of the circus. John Sawyer II, a so-called college friend of his, had recently moved back to the city and apparently hadn’t received the news on Phillip’s exile. He hadn’t seen the man in years, but there was an invitation on his desk. The crowd would be young-ish, and he hoped that would work to his advantage. 

Rubbing his temples, he considered his options. He didn’t necessarily have to go alone, did he? He wasn’t about to lie or manipulate anyone to join him, but he could always ask. 

This time he waited outside the dressing room, until he saw Anne come out, leaving Lettie alone inside. The familiar ache his beloved woke in him was present once more, leaving him feeling unable to mend things for either one of them. For a brief moment, he indulged in a daydream of taking _her_ to the party, telling and showing everyone what she was to him. After everything that felt like such a small feat, but _she’d made her choice._ A choice he still had such a hard time accepting. 

She offered him a timid smile, but her hand brushed against his as she passed him, the gesture leaving him breathless and longing.

Once he recovered from seeing her, he gathered his thoughts and knocked on the door. “Lettie? Can I come in?” He asked.

”Come on in! What brings you here?” Asked his friend, turning around in her chair to give him a confused look. 

“I have to go to a party,” he replied, going straight to the point.

“And?”

“I’d be honored if you came with me.”

“Me?” She asked, a hand on her sternum.

“Yes, you. You could sing, charm them,” he smiled at her. “I’ll pay you of course,” he promised. 

Lettie blinked slowly, still looking as if she couldn’t believe what he was asking. 

“I... If you’re sure, I’ll come. And I’ll sing, too. But can I ask you something?”

”Anything.”

”Why are you doing this?”

”Going to the party or asking you to come along?”

She shrugged. “Both. We both know I’m not the person you really want to ask.”

”I- I couldn’t ask Anne.”

The name reverberated in his head like the only song he ever wanted to listen to. _Anne_. Even now he wanted her. This was likely going to be the toughest party he’d ever taken part in, and it was her he wanted with him. He wanted a true partner to support him, and to share his life. It wasn’t right to want her where people wouldn’t stop staring at them. He knew the insults uttered straight to your face weren’t half as bad as the ones people came up with in their heads and only voiced when you turned your back on them. He also had not forgotten about the abuse she'd endured in London.

Keeping a family’s reputation clean hadn’t been easy even for his parents. Phillip was now tainted forever in the eyes of the New York elite, and so were his parents, who should fortunately not be at this particular party. People who used to invite him to their homes would refuse to speak to him. They wouldn’t shake his hand anymore. _Was it terrible of him to only care because they would now be less inclined to want to invest in the circus?_ He would still try, because there had always been daredevils and mavericks among the younger crowd, the men who had studied with him. Those were the ones who he needed to talk into coming to see the show, to throw their family’s money at them.

Once upon a time he'd deliberately sought their company, but now they'd pepper him with questions he would've been proud to answer under better circumstances but that now made his grief and frustration worse.

”I’ve got to do this for the circus. We could use more people here every night,” he explained, hoping he didn’t sound too alarming. Upsetting Lettie or anyone else wasn’t necessary. 

“Anne would do it if you asked.”

”I know, but I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

She nodded. “You still love her a lot, don’t you?”

He was going to take that as a rhetorical question. “So, will you do it?”

”When is this party?”

”This Saturday, so in three days.”

”I’ll do it. On one condition.”

”Name it.”

”That I don’t get shut out, like after Jenny Lind’s concert.”

 _Oh yes._ Barnum hadn’t wanted any of the performers at the after party. _How could he possibly forget that night?_ It was hardly one of Barnum's best, nor his for that matter. This was one promise he could make and keep.

”You have my word.”

”Then you have yourself some company,” she answered with a smile. 

***

When Anne opened the door to the bathroom on Saturday night, she did _not_ expect to find Phillip on the other side, literally in the middle of getting dressed for a fancy party.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stuttered, hoping to God that she wasn’t blushing. _Why hadn’t he locked the door?_

At least he looked just as embarrassed as she felt. "My mistake," he sighed. "I should've locked the door. I guess I was distracted."

Lettie had told her about the party they would be attending, and after the debacle with Mrs. Barnum's scarf, she wasn't silly enough to think she had any reason to be jealous. 

“Going to a party?” She asked.

”Yes. Unfortunately.”

”Then why are you going if you'd rather not?”

“Because it’s what’s needed, Anne. I’m trying to look after this place.”

He seemed tense, his brow furrowed in a way that made her want to smooth her finger down the bridge of his nose. 

“I know you are.” _It’s one of the reasons I like you so much._ She wanted to ask why he hadn’t asked her to go to this party with him, but at the same time she was happy for Lettie. Her friend deserved to have a nice evening. Not that she and Phillip could ever have had the kind of a night out she wanted them to, but she didn’t want him out there on his own, where people would be talking about her. How she didn’t deserve him.

 _Had she somehow tainted him in the eyes of the women who his parents had seen as suitable for him?_ If she had, surely he had opportunities among more ordinary women, who would still be more acceptable than her. The battle for the course of her life was still ongoing, as she found herself unable to move forward. If even a year ago someone had told her that she'd fall for a rich white man, she'd have laughed, and it wouldn't have been an amused laugh. Today, when she looked at him, the question wasn't about how it was possible to feel so strongly about this man, but rather how she could _not_.

"Well, I'm sorry for hindering your bath plans. I hope you have a good night," he said gently. 

"You, too."

The urge to touch him rose again in her, leading her to take the few steps needed to stand in front of him and place a hand on his cheek. His eyes closed in pleasure, and he turned his head to place a kiss on her palm. Anne shivered, her body screaming for more contact. This time she fought it, pulling her hand away slowly. Phillip's eyes fluttered open, meetings hers. There was pain, but also understanding. He nodded, stepping away from her. 

"Bye, Anne."

Needing to be alone, she took her time in the bath, wondering what her life would turn out. Sure, they were in New York now, but how long would they be able to stay? The circus wouldn't last forever, the protesters were already coming by more often. _Nothing lasted forever. Especially if it was good._

It hadn't been a hard decision to leave Louisiana, and although W.D. had made the call for both of them, she'd been happy to go and had never looked back. On their way north, her brother had worked in factories, farms and as a gardener, always shielding her from abuse.

There had also been the circuses and freak shows on the way that had hired them, but they'd always ended up leaving, moving on. There was no escaping the hatred and the discrimination, was there? They could run from it for the rest of their lives, or they could refuse to leave the place that had become their home and take a stand. W.D. had been partial to not fighting- or talking- back unless it was absolutely crucial for survival. _If only it were that simple with people, too._

You staked your claim and if they agreed, you stood your ground. It got people killed, any kind of resistance could get you killed, even _not_ resisting could spell death. Your simple existence was enough to make people want to murder you. She and her brother were damned no matter what. 

***

If his worries had been enough to distract him earlier, Anne's appearance had rattled him more. She approached him more freely these days, making him wonder what it could mean, or if he ought to read anything at all into it. How he wanted to believe it meant she was close to changing her mind! 

“Is there a plan, Phillip?” Asked Lettie as they sat in the carriage on their way to the party. 

“Some of the men I went to university with might be persuaded. I think so, at least. It’s our best shot.”

“What do you need me to do?” 

“You should be yourself, that’s all.”

She cocked her head. “Are you sure that’s going to be enough? Barnum didn’t think we were-“

“I’m not him, and he’s not here. So we’re doing things my way. You’re a star, Lettie. Let them see that.”

“If you’re looking to impress young men, shouldn’t you really be bringing a young woman? I know what you said about not wanting to bring Anne, but still,” she pointed out. The thought had indeed crossed his mind, but he could never have gone through with that, not even for the circus.

She wasn’t a body to be ogled at, and he would’ve probably ended up being so angry that someone would’ve been punched. His decision ate at him from the inside because he knew how selfish and petty it was. Perhaps she would have done it if he’d explained the reasons, but he hadn’t given her the choice. 

“I see your point, but I think this is the best for everyone.”

“I’m glad to help you anytime.”

“Which is why you’re a saint, Miss Lutz.”

She giggled. “Hardly, but you’re a smooth talker.”

***  
  


The party was much as Phillip had expected it to be. Pretentious, certainly, but Lettie was a hit. At first he'd feared the worst when he'd heard people snickering behind their backs, but as soon as Lettie had offered to sing to honor the host and opened her mouth, their audience had been hooked. _This might actually work._

As he left his companion temporarily to grab drinks for both of them, he groaned as he saw two women approaching him. 

“Evening, ladies,” he greeted flippantly. 

“Phillip, what a wonderful surprise to see you here! We weren’t sure if you’d show up again,” chirped Isabelle Rudolph, holding out her hand as she expected him to kiss it. Sighing internally, he did as was expected of him. He may have been an outcast, but he was still a gentleman, after all.

“We heard that you brought a negro girl to the theater, but surely that can’t be true?” Cooed Beverley Black, the look of distaste on her face resembling a sneer. She was doing this to get a rise out of him, and unfortunately it was working. 

Phillip had to remind himself that he _was_ indeed a gentleman first and foremost, and that telling these women what they deserved to hear wouldn’t benefit Anne, himself or anyone else. His Anne was safe at the circus, she wasn’t there listening to these women insult her. She didn’t need him to defend her. And yet he was so angry. 

“The rumors are true,” he finally exhaled, forcing the worst of his anger down. 

“But _why_ would you do that? And now you’re here with a bearded lady. You’ve changed so much, Phillip.”

“Miss Lutz is a friend of mine, not to mention the best singer in New York. You should come see our show sometime," he suggested, desperately looking for a way out as he felt sweat trickling down his neck. _When you hated conflict, you hated conflict._

The women ignored his comment, moving onto what he suspected they’d always been more interested in hearing about. 

“What about _that girl?_ There’s talk that men get her to do many things with money.”

That was his breaking point. The thin glass flute in his hand broke into pieces as he squeezed it too hard, the shards cutting into his palm painfully, but he didn’t care. Not even when the women he’d spent- no, _wasted-_ years of his life escorting to parties like this one, gasped in horror and stared at him as if he were a madman. They’d gone too far. There was no way he’d let them slander Anne.

“She is _not_ a prostitute,” he growled angrily. Something about the way he spoke must have gotten into their heads, because they stepped away from him. “A hundred of you would not be worth one of her.”

“What has happened to you, Phillip?” Whispered Isabelle, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.

“I see my life for what it is now, and for what it used to be. I much prefer my new one, including the company," he concluded before stepping away, hoping his words cut into them, hurt them. Seeing his former company for what they were made didn't only make him hate them, but himself, too, and that was the hard part. 

The blood was dripping over his pants and coat, and with a curse he took out a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding. The thin piece of cloth wasn't nearly enough, and his hand was so sore he wondered if some of the glass was still in there. 

"Would you mind if we went home? I know it's early, but I had an accident," he muttered to Lettie, leaning over to talk to her without shouting. 

Lettie’s eyes widened as she stared at his hand. “What happened to you? Did you get into trouble? Come on, take this before you bleed on these seats,” she scolded, handing over her own silk scarf to replace the handkerchief that was now disgustingly soggy with his blood.

“Thanks. I’m sorry to cut your evening short. I lost my temper about something," he confessed as they left the house. 

“Clearly. What was it?”

“People making up nasty rumors about Anne.”

When Lettie glared at him expectantly, he drew in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “These women I know are spreading rumors that she’s a prostitute.”

“That’s… That’s terrible.”

He nodded. “And there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it. She’s not with me, and this is still happening. I never wanted any of this, Lettie,” he sighed. 

“She knows that. But you’re not going to tell her any of this, are you?”

“I don’t see why I should. She’s not going to be seen with me anymore, so she shouldn’t run into anyone from my previous life. She doesn’t have to know about this.”

His companion nodded. “Well, you should still know that I had a good night.”

Forcing a smile on his face, he faced Lettie. “That’s good to hear.” At least one of them didn’t feel like this entire evening had been a disaster. 

***

Sleep evaded Anne again that night, so after her bath, she practiced her act for hours on end, until she was nearly too exhausted to balance herself in the air. The light in the office was turned on, drawing her to climb the steps. The door was ajar when she reached it, and she peered inside.   
  
Phillip stood at his desk, a bloody handkerchief and scarf strewn on the wood. 

“What did you do to your hand?” She asked, seeing blood all over him now.

“I had a little accident. I’m bad at wrapping wounds, which is why I’ve made this mess.”

She could tell right away that Phillip was lying, but it wasn’t any of her business, so she bit her tongue. 

“I can wrap it.”

He blinked, but the softness in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He still wanted her close, nothing had changed. Now it was only possible through excuses, some of which were quite ridiculous even to her, but she would take them. “It’s a hassle to do it with one hand,” he replied. 

“Does this hurt?” She asked, frowning at his hand. There was something underneath the broken skin, stuck to the wound. He grimaced, his palm jerking slightly at the contact.

“Is this _glass?_ ” _What had he been doing?_

“Hmmmm… It could be, I guess,” he admitted.

”I thought you went to a party with Lettie.”

“I did.”

“Were you also in a bar fight or something?” She asked angrily, the words getting out before she managed to stop them. She was acting like a displeased wife.

Heat rose into her cheeks when Phillip actually snickered. “You won’t be laughing when I pluck them out,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, growing more serious again. “I have not been in a bar fight, or to a bar. You can ask Lettie if you want to.”

Nevertheless, he clearly didn’t want her to know the real cause for the wound. “I trust you,” she relented, shrugging. “I’ll get the tweezers.”

“You always end up patching me up,” he said with a smile once she’d returned. 

“You’re very accident prone, it seems.”

“Thank you, Anne. Really.”

She nodded, acknowledging his thanks. The truth of her behavior was uglier, though. She didn’t want anyone else touching him. It was jealousy and possessiveness which made no sense and slowly destroyed her from the inside. _Wouldn’t it be different if she only let herself fall into his arms and forget the rest?_ He would be hers if she asked for it. 

Her thoughts kept going in a circle, always ending up in the same place: that she wasn’t going to stop loving Phillip. There weren’t many choices for her to choose from, and none of them were good. She could live the rest of her life imagining how their life might be together, or she could take the risk of him deciding she wasn’t enough for him after all, as well as the other risks. So far she’d gone with the first option, and she hated it with everything she had in her. He was beautiful inside out, no matter what she wanted to tell herself. 

Her fingers curled around his shoulder and squeezed. 

Anne could swear she heard him whisper something as she turned her back on him and strode out of the room. It sounded a lot like _I love you,_ but she chose to ignore the rods, believing she must’ve misheard, her heart aching. 

***

A few days later Anne sat on her bed, reading, when a knock interrupted her. She opened it to reveal Lettie, who was carrying a stack of books. 

“What’s this about?” Asked Anne, frowning at the other woman.

“It’s Phillip’s birthday next week and I thought we should throw him a party.”

That stopped her in her tracks. She should know something like this, shouldn’t she? They had never discussed exact birth dates. _How old was he, anyway?_ He had to be a little younger than W.D., and he had six years on her. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed.

Birthdays had never been that big of a deal for her, but their mama had always tried to make them good days. She’d mostly stopped celebrating after her death. 

"How do you know it's his birthday, though?" 

"One of his old friends at the party we went to mentioned it to me. Will you help me cook, then? And I have no idea what to get him as a present.”

Anne shot her a dark look, shaking her head. “You know I can’t cook to save my life.”

“I’ll show you. I brought some recipe books for us to look through."

They spread the books on Anne's bed, both taking a seat on the mattress. 

"I could bake the cake, but if you wanted to make something for everyone to eat before, it'd be great," suggested Lettie.

Snickering, Anne shook her head. "The main course? You've got way too much faith in me."

"Come on, it'll be fun! We can do a test batch before the party."

Cooking had never fit Anne's definition of fun, but she was willing to try. It was tough to say no to Lettie, after all. 

With a deep sigh, she relented. "Okay. Let's do it."

Over the next few days, they practiced. Anne has settled on a spicy chicken stew, which had come tasting pretty good... On her third try. W.D. served as the test subject; naturally the idiot had faked a cough even when the food had been perfect. 

The day before the party, there was still the matter of the present to deal with. _What did you get someone who could buy anything he wanted?_ Yet her intuition told her that Phillip would be touched by anything he received, he still seemed surprised to be treated as a friend by the people there. 

Even so, she wanted to get him something he would truly like. He may not know it was her who had been in charge of choosing the present, but if the present pleased him and made him think about everyone there, she’d have achieved her objective. 

“You sure you want to go alone?” Asked W.D., his arms crossed across his chest as he gave her his usual concerned and overprotective look.

”I really am. It’s just a bookstore, anyway.” She smiled at the memory of being so nervous to pick out a dress only a few months earlier, and that had been in good company. Now she barely felt a tiny twinge of anxiety at the thought of going out to shop alone. It wasn’t the world that had changed, she realized, but _her._

”Well, as long as you’re sure... What are you getting him?”

It was slightly odd to discuss Phillip’s hobbies with her brother, but this one was hardly a secret. “He’s a good writer, so I was thinking writing supplies.” 

W.D. gave her a nod of approval. “Sounds smart, it's something you’d do.”

”You think I’m smart?” She joked back. 

“I’ve never doubted that. You’ve been off lately, but I get it. Or maybe I don’t, but I know you’ll figure it out. That’s just how you are.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to counter that, so she settled on throwing her arms around him. 

***

A message arrived on the morning of what was technically Phillip’s 26th birthday. Not that he had any plans to celebrate the occasion, and he only knew what day it was thanks to staring at the calendar every single day. 

It wasn’t until after the show that he had time to open the message. He frowned at the envelope; it had been delivered by a messenger very early that morning and he didn’t recognize the handwriting.

_Phillip,_

_My husband is returning early from tour and wished for me to relay you this message. He said he believes it is more important for him to be here than touring the country. His train is expected to be in New York at 8:30 in the evening on the 22nd.  
_

_Hope all is well with you,_

_Charity Barnum_

Blowing out air, he dropped into his chair. The 22nd was only a day away. _What was up with that man?_ The first thing he asked Barnum when he showed up at the circus would be to explain what the hell was going on.

Someone rapped on the door as he rubbed his weary eyes. 

“Hi! There’s something you need to take a look at,” insisted Lettie, apparently too busy and excited to bother coming inside. 

It wasn’t unusual for Lettie to come and ask him to look at one thing or another, so he nodded, chuckling. “Where is it?” He asked, getting to his feet.

“In the ring.”

Getting curious now, he followed her down the stairs. 

The situation began to dawn on him when he saw the people gathered around a table full of food. 

“Happy Birthday!” 

Everyone was there, with excited smiles on their faces. “What is this?” He murmured, looking around for the most important face. Anne was standing beside her brother, a little to the side of the main crowd, smiling, just like everyone else. 

“A party, dummy,” replied Charles, rolling his eyes. “ _Your_ party,” clarified W.D.

“How did you know- oh, it was you, wasn’t it?” He asked, turning to Lettie. 

“Yes, you can blame me for telling everyone when your birthday was, but everyone wanted to help out with the party.”

“Come on, there’s cake and presents. Can’t start on the food before you take some first,” insisted W.D.

Phillip was still stupefied by the surprise, unable to believe that someone had gone to all this trouble for him. It was too much, no matter how you sliced it. He wasn’t worth this. 

“Speech! Speech!” Hollered Charles.

“Alright, alright!” He chuckled. “I can’t express how much this means to me. I didn’t expect anything… So thank you, all of you. I also have some news for you: today I received word from Barnum that he’s on his way home. He’ll be back in town tomorrow.”

The surprise on everyone’s faces was apparent. And it wasn’t necessarily the good kind of astonishment. They were concerned for a reason.

“Why’s he coming back in the middle of the tour?” Asked W.D., frowning. Now wasn’t that a good question?

“He said he’s got something more important to work on here, but for now that’s what I know,” Phillip revealed, truthfully.

He certainly had his suspicions about what had transpired, but nothing conclusive enough to tell anyone, especially the people who relied on them. The best case scenario would have to be marital problems, anything else would mean they were in trouble. 

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Pleaded Lettie. “Let’s celebrate tonight and worry tomorrow.”

Everyone nodded, muttering their agreement. “I guess one night won’t change anything,” sighed W.D.

After the cake was cut, the music started. When Phillip shot Lettie an amused glare, she shrugged. “It’s not a party if there’s no dancing,” she said. 

“Hear hear!” Shouted Charles.

“In that case, may I have this dance?” He asked her.

“But of course.”

When he felt sadness overcome him, he reminded himself that he was being ungrateful. _This_ right here was the best birthday he’d ever had, organized not out of pity or obligation, but because somehow he’d made friends with these people. He felt guilty over his considerations of leaving the circus, and that as well as knowing that Barnum was on his way home, made him wistful.

He’d be back to being an overpaid apprentice soon enough. Leaving would be easier then. Granted his plans still weren’t far along, he knew he couldn’t live this way, and what was more important, he couldn’t make Anne live like this. And if his hunches about the reasons for Barnum’s early return were right? The circus would need all the money it could get, including the share of the profits that Phillip now received. 

The dancing continued, with apparently everyone insisting on dancing with _him._ He danced with every single one of the women present, except for Anne. She had retreated behind everyone else, settling on sitting alone in one corner. This was no way to end the party as far as he was concerned. His palms damp with sweat, he strode over to her, despite feeling everyone’s eyes on them.

There was nothing to be afraid of here, if anything, they’d just think he was a fool in love and perhaps feel sorry for him. Anne would not be hurt inside these walls. She was _loved,_ appreciated and adored, he knew as much. The knowledge filled his mind with certainty and respect towards everyone there, more than being surprised by the celebration had done. 

He extended his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

Anne’s brown eyes met his, her mouth opening slightly. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes.” It was almost a whisper. 

His arm settled on her waist, while his other hand held onto one of hers. They were the only ones dancing now, with the rest of the troupe staring at them. Still, he only saw her, and the things she remained unwilling to share with him. Yet the connection was still there, just as undeniable as it had been for a while now, but stronger. 

Once everything had been cleaned and the troupe had gone to bed, Phillip stayed behind, sitting on the bleachers as he stared at the ring. This was by far the most magical place he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. It was also the closest thing to a home he’d ever truly had. Heartbreak was a part of life, and he was going to learn to live with his, or die trying. 

***

Clearing up the last of the dishes they’d used for cooking, Anne realized there was light still shining from the ring, making her believe someone had simply forgotten to turn it off. Parting the curtains, she found Phillip, looking deep in thought. The party had been a success, and seeing him so happy had made her happy, too.

It made her wonder how much he’d enjoyed the parties he used to attend so often, the ones populated by the so-called better people. The ones where the performing musicians wore clothes just as fine as the guests. The ones where the food wasn’t made by the hands of the guests. 

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey. Sorry about the light, I’ll turn in soon.”

“You’re not going home?” She had never been to his apartment, but knew he had one. There was no need for him to stay there overnight. 

“No, I think I’ll sleep here tonight.”

“Did you enjoy the party?”

“I really did. Thank you.”

”I didn’t do much,” she blurted out.

”So it wasn’t you who picked out my present?” He asked tentatively.

Biting her lip, she decided to drop the act. “All right, that was me. I hope you like it.”

”Of course I do, I’ll use it as soon as my current notebook is full.”

The truth was that it wasn’t everything she’d bought at the store, the second package still hidden in the bag she was clutching in her hand. 

“There’s one more.”

Phillip arched a brow in surprise. “One more present?”

”Yes. It’s just from me.”

He pried the thin wrapping paper open carefully, revealing the stationery set she’d used a half an hour choosing. 

“I love it,” he exhaled, his smile brighter than the sun that barely came out this time of the year. 

“This may sound like crazy talk, but I’ve changed since I came here, and even more after you joined. So, I wanted to thank you. It’s a small thing, but-“ she elaborated. 

”I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more. But if you’ve changed, it’s not because of me.”

”How can you be so sure?”

”Because I haven’t done anything,” he shrugged. 

“That is most definitely not true. I- I think you’ve changed, too.”

He snorted. “I have, that’s true. I hope it’s for the better.”

”I think you’ve always been good,” she admitted, receiving a chuckle in return. 

”Hardly, but thank you for the confidence. Will you dance with me again?”

She cracked a grin. “There’s no music.”

“I can hum.”

“I already danced with you,” she argued half-heartedly. 

“When everyone was watching.”

She stood still as his fingers splayed on her hips. “Sounds like you have inappropriate plans, Mr. Carlyle.”

“I am only planning on proving to you what we both already know to be true.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmmmm-hmmm,” he nodded. 

They both grew quiet, swaying to the tune of the imagined music. This was joy. This was happiness. This was life. Every single part of her was _so alive,_ body, soul and mind _._ To be like this every day. 

“Happy birthday,” she whispered.

“Thank you. I could dance with you all night.”

Nodding against his shoulder, she expressed her agreement. Words were dangerous, but so was touch. So were looks. And gestures. Like coming to ask her to dance with everyone watching when she’d deliberately hidden herself to avoid it. She’d felt no shame, though. This may have been the one place in the world where they were accepted. At first she’d worried even about the people who had become her family and friends, but no longer. Nobody had said a thing, only smiled at her knowingly. They were fond of Phillip, too. 

_“You’re so beautiful together.”_

_“What a lovely couple you make!”_

_“I wish someone would look at me the way he looks at you!”_

She’d never expected to get comments like that. These people were on their side, and it felt like a miracle. Even W.D. had settled on simply giving her a roll of his eyes, but she was sure she saw him squeeze Phillip’s shoulder in passing. 

“Phillip?” She asked.

“Yes?”

“How long would you wait for me?” 

Pulling away to get a better look at her, his feet stopped moving. His eyes were wide, the hope in them breaking Anne’s resolve into pieces. “What do you mean? I’d wait forever, of course. For as long as there’s life in me.”

It still sure sounded like a fantasy to her, but he appeared so serious. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you know what you’re saying, making me all these promises,” she whispered, exasperated. 

“Would you rather I no longer speak to you?” 

”I don’t... I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she did what she had to protect herself. 

He nodded. “All right. I understand.”

”You don’t.” He would never truly understand.

”Okay, maybe not all, but I am trying. And I understand what I need to do.”

 _What did that mean?_ Before she could ask, he was gone. 

The fight bothered her later that night, and she remained awake to write him. 

_Dear Phillip,_

_I am sorry about the argument. It is not your fault that you cannot understand my life. I hope you find something, or someone, that makes you happy. I wish it could be me. However, more than anything, I want you to be alive. I could not take it if you died because of my childish desires. And yes, I also fear that life with me would eventually drive you away from me, but at least you would remain alive._

_Sometimes I wonder if you’ve put me under a spell. There are no perfect people, but you are perfect for me, the person I am becoming. Some days I know that can’t be true, that it has to be a dream. Some days I believe in it with all my heart.  
_

_You know my life has not been easy, but sometimes I think I could take just a little more if only I got to be with you. What would that life be like? I doubt we will ever know, and for that too, I am sorry._

_Love, Anne_

This was the most honest letter she'd ever written anyone, but giving it to him would be an even bolder move, perhaps one she wasn’t ready to go for. She'd sleep on it.

***

It was time to put his plan in motion. His latest talk with Anne had confirmed the need for taking a step back. Reaching for the stationery set she'd gifted him, he wrote what was meant to be his last letter to her. Her words to him had certainly felt like a goodbye. 

_Dear Anne,_

_Thank you for the dance. The party was wonderful, but dancing with you was the highlight of the night for me. I will cherish that memory forever._

_I am writing to you now to tell you that once Barnum has returned, I will leave the circus. It had been hard to see you every day, and I know having to see me causes you pain. This was the only solution I could think of. Will I leave town? I do not know yet, but I have some plans, dreams if you want to call them that. You remain my greatest one, until my dying day, but I understand that the price to pay for being with me would be too great._

_Love,_

_Phillip_

  
***

The day that would change their lives forever was just like so many others before it: cool and gloomy, with rain coming down every once in a while. The increasing darkness had an effect on Anne’s spirits even now, years after leaving the south. There was so little light. 

Some time after the end of the show that night, there was commotion downstairs, but Anne thought it could wait until she had changed out of her costume. It wasn’t until the smell of smoke burned her nostrils that she realized something was terribly wrong. Then came the shouts.

Recognizing at least her brother’s, Lettie’s and Phillip’s voices, she knew she had to get out. She was almost out the door when she realized it. _The letters._ She could leave everything else, including her clothes, but not them. It took no more than a few seconds to shove the bundle into her dress. 

Smoke was flowing into their room from the crack under the door. Pausing, she realized her way out was shut. There would be more smoke in the hallway. Her heart pounding as the faces of the people she didn’t want to leave filled her mind, she opened the window. The first breath of fresh air filling her lungs helped her think more clearly. She wasn’t a trapeze artist for nothing. _She could do this, she was capable of saving herself._

As she climbed out the window and slid down to the ground, her head was filled with questions: _had everyone made it out? Was there someone still inside, a friend she’d now abandoned to the flames? What if-_ No, she couldn’t go there, not even in her head. And yet she knew her brother could have gone back in to look for her if he’d already realized she wasn’t there. She didn’t allow herself to think anyone else would be that stupid.

Relief coursed through her when she caught sight of W.D. standing in front of the rest of the troupe, held back by four men, including Barnum. _Her brother was safe._

“W.D!” She yelled to get his attention.

“Anne! We thought- we thought you were in there!” He shouted back, pulling her into his arms. 

Looking around, she took notice of who and what she saw, including Mrs. Barnum and her daughters, and who was _not_ there. _Phillip._ He hadn’t- he wouldn’t- she turned to W.D, who nodded. Then Barnum was gone, too, taking off after Phillip. 

As Anne’s legs threatened to give in and she lost the ability to form words at all, she wanted to scream. They should go back in, or at least she should. _What if Barnum couldn’t find him?_ What if the building came down- right as she thought about it, the nightmare came true as if it had been a premonition, their home collapsing in a fiery heap right in front of their eyes.

There was no way anyone would survive that. Remembering telling Phillip that he was accident prone, she realized that she wouldn't be able to fix him after this. 

Time seemed to stop as they watched the collapse. None of this seemed real. Her times with Phillip had never felt real either, but this was not like that. This was the exact opposite. It was too terrible to be true. 

Then she saw it, saw him, the gasps and screams of Mrs. Barnum and her daughters reaching her ears. Her entire body shook in shock as she watched Barnum place Phillip on the ground. _Was he-_

“He’s still breathing,” yelled Barnum. “We’ve got to get him to the hospital,” he continued, and that was when she untangled herself from W.D.’s arms, stepping to the unconscious man on the ground. _The man she loved._ There were burns and ash all over him, and she didn’t know where to touch him to not make things worse, but she had to make sure he knew she was there. 

“You want to come?” Asked Barnum, making Anne blink. It took her seconds to understand that he was truly talking to her, acknowledging that she’d have any kind of claim on Phillip. 

She nodded. “Please,” she begged. 

“He’d have my head if I didn’t get you in there with him,” murmured her boss, trying to make the grim situation somehow lighter. She got it, but it made her feel as if she’d inhaled much more of the smoke than she had. Phillip might not wake up to be angry with Barnum. She couldn’t let their last conversation become truly the last one, before he died thinking she didn’t know she wanted him. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she swore, even as Lettie’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“I know you’re not, sweetie. I’m just lending you strength, although you do have it in spades already. He loves you more than anything, he’s not going anywhere either.”

Phillip was lifted off the ground on a stretcher, with Anne having to work to keep up with the men carrying him. One of them was her own big brother, his face serious. 

They carried him all the way to the hospital, with Anne having to make sure he was still breathing every two minutes. 

At the hospital it took awhile for anyone to realize she was present, because they were so busy with Phillip. She didn’t know much about medicine, but this couldn’t mean anything good. 

The doctor shook his head. “Did he inhale a lot of smoke?” He asked, addressing Barnum. 

“I found him like this, inside the burning building. He wasn't conscious when I got to him.”

“We can treat the burns and hope there’s no infection, but we can’t fix his lungs. You can hope he’s young enough to make it.”

 _So there was nothing to be done?_

“We’ll know more tomorrow,” sighed the doctor. “You should all go home. Does he have family?”

Looking around the room, Barnum’s eyes stopped at her. “Are you staying?” He asked.

She nodded. “Please.”

“She’s his family,” he announced to the doctor, who turned, and eyed her with doubt. Anne wanted to scream. _He’s dying and you can only see the color of my skin!_

“Fine,” muttered the doctor, making room for her beside Phillip’s bed. 

She barely noticed the crowd dispersing as she took a seat on the edge of the mattress, careful not to lean into Phillip. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to him, taking his bandaged hand between both of hers. It was too late for anything now.

All the things she'd considered telling him, the things she'd dreamed of doing with him, it was all for nothing because she was such a coward. She could’ve done and said more, should have done and said so much more...   
  
There would be no sleep for her that night, not until Phillip woke up. If he ever did. 


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read Utopia before this one! :) And yes, there will be another fic in this series. Rating upped due to this chapter just to be on the safe side!

Leaving his sister alone at the hospital was the hardest thing W.D. had ever done. Somehow he still realized that it wasn’t his place to stay with her, because this was something she had to do on her own. What had he really let her do anything on her own, without at least watching over her? 

He had prayed for Carlyle’s recovery as he’d promised Anne, and now it was in God’s hands. That- as well as losing their home- was why he’d been sitting at a bar, drinking, for… Hours. He didn’t know how many. At some point Barnum himself showed up, for once looking less like his usual jolly self. This Barnum was serious, maybe even embarrassed. He also seemed distracted. W.D. had to guess that the fate of the circus wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Regardless of the man’s own problems, theirs was a more urgent one, as far as he was concerned. Their _home_ was gone. They all wanted it back. 

He couldn’t even think about the option that his sister would be leaving the hospital alone. The loss of their home was easier to handle, and fixable. He could do something to help out, they’d all do it, but Barnum had to be invested too. He didn’t know how much of his wealth still existed, but surely he had other resources. A man like him would fall on his feet. But what would happen to the rest of them now? 

By the time Barnum left the bar to go after his wife, they were drunk. _Too drunk._ But was there even such a thing when you were homeless, jobless and praying your sister wouldn’t be permanently damaged by another loss? It numbed him, making everything hurt less. It was a welcome relief when he finally slumped against the counter, letting sleep take him. 

Later, someone shook him awake. “W.D?” Whispered a woman’s voice. 

“Anne?” He asked, rubbing his eyes as he tried to force them to stay open. 

“Yeah, it’s me. What the hell have you been doing?”

She laughed. 

“Had a few drinks.”

She looked like she had more to say, but the happy glow on her cheeks topped everything. 

“He’s awake?” 

Anne nodded, beaming. “Yeah, now he’s asleep again, but he’s going to be fine.”

Before W.D. even realized it was happening, he was laughing, the sound coming out way too happy for a newly homeless man. Despite that he felt something telling him that it would all be alright now. It didn’t make any sense, because no good had ever come of getting involved with white men, but this didn’t feel like that. Anne was going to be happy, and he felt confident Carlyle wanted to do right by her, too, as crazy as that was when you considered the sorry state of this country. He wasn’t going to make things harder for them. 

“I’m happy for you. What do you need? Food, clothes, sleep?” He asked, scrambling to his feet.

She shook her head. “Nothing that will keep me here long.”

“You have to eat.”

“Fine, a meal, a bath and some clothes, maybe?”

“Let’s get going, then.”

He was lucky to have enough money on him to get her a room at an inn for the bath, as well as a warm meal. The innkeeper’s wife borrowed her a dress. 

As he watched his sister eat like she hadn’t seen food in days, W.D. didn’t ask what Carlyle had said to her when he’d woken up. It wasn’t his business, was it? If Anne chose to tell him, so be it, but he wouldn’t press her. She was _happy_. Happier than he’d ever seen her. He wouldn’t be much of a brother if he didn’t try to protect that happiness, would he?

“I have to go back to him,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin after finishing her food. 

“You sure they’ll let you back in? I can come with you,” he suggested, realizing it was a dumb idea. If anyone could help Anne get into that hospital, it was Barnum, who was now God-knew where. 

Anne shook her head. “No, I can handle it. But thanks. And thanks for not saying anything, I know you have-“

“There will be time to talk later,” he assured her, patting her shoulder. “Let me at least walk you.”

“Okay.”

Later that day he ventured out with the others to see the ruins of what used to be the circus. They were still smoking, and W.D. felt the heat emanating from them. Charles made the mistake of touching a metal rod and quickly jumped back, shaking his hand. 

“Careful,” warned W.D.

“You tell me that _now_!” Hissed Charles.

There wasn’t much to be salvaged, and they didn’t stick around long. 

As he was trying to climb down from the pile, he slipped on something, nearly losing his balance. Cursing silently, he reached down to pick up the thing he’d stepped on. It was a notebook.

On the first page his eyes found three important words. 

_By Phillip Carlyle_

The notebook was charred, which had to be why he hadn’t recognized it. After all, he’d seen it before in Anne’s hands, with her weeping her eyes out as she read it. 

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” He murmured, his mouth curving into a grin. He would’ve never asked Anne’s or Phillip’s permission to read it, but now that it was in his hands, why not do it?

This man had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, facing people who had more in common with him that W.D. did, and then he’d almost died to save his sister. It was hard to grasp and accept, but to Phillip Carlyle, Anne was worthy of his protection, of even giving his own life for. He could live with that. Not many white men would’ve seen things that way. 

“What’s that?” Asked Lettie, a hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to get a better look of what he’d found. 

He shrugged, shoving the notebook into his pocket. “Belongs to Carlyle. I’ll give it back to him.”

“Are you going to give him a hard time?”

“About Anne?”

“Is there another reason?” He joked. 

“You didn’t answer me.”

“This is ridiculous and even more dangerous. We’re all idiots for not telling them both to knock it off, but…”

“You can’t do it.”

“She’d hate me forever if I stood in her way.”

“Are you sure you could even stop her?”

W.D. chuckled. “You’re right. I just never thought _this_ would be something I’d see her do.”

Lettie smiled at him. “It’s crazy to say this at the ruins of our home, but I think the best is yet to come.”

“Let’s hope so. I know I do.”

“Me too.”

***

First it was days that passed, then they turned into weeks and eventually a couple of months had passed, and the circus was back in business and she still fell asleep in Phillip’s arms every night. Anne was back soaring above the heads of her friends and the audience, and every night she accompanied Phillip to his home, a place she was tethered to only by its owner. It still felt like a mismatch to her… Well, everything aside from the man himself. Sometimes she had to pinch herself to believe that she could be this lucky. 

Despite the happiness that she couldn’t rid herself of, there was also guilt. It was one of the reasons why she’d laundered other people’s clothes with Lettie for weeks when they’d been rebuilding, despite Phillip’s generous offer to look after her and the assurances that she didn’t have to do a job she didn’t want. Taking up on his offer would’ve felt like a betrayal of her brother and her friends, of her entire life, like she was now suddenly better than them. She most definitely wasn’t, but she was now different, wasn’t she? The others had been short-term tenants in various places, some of them alone, some of them in small groups, while she had the luxury of a clean, well-lit apartment she shared with the person she loved the most. At least now they had settled into the new circus trailers behind the tent. _Where she could be, too, and yet she wasn’t._

They’d told W.D. he could stay with them, but her brother had stubbornly refused, shaking his head with a smile. His decision had been a surprise to Anne, as she’d believed he’d want to watch over her at the very least, but no, he’d stepped back. She had to wonder if her new life was changing- or would change her- to someone she didn’t want to be. A woman like her could never be part of the elite, and Phillip could hardly be considered that either anymore, but the truth was that people still believed he was too good for her. There were people who wanted to take him from her and humiliate her. Who said this was all her fault, not taking into account that everything he had done had been his decision, not hers. The old lady downstairs was nice to her to her face, but Anne had heard her grumbling to a friend once about how _she’d seduced that poor young man and led him astray_. 

Her life couldn’t go back to what it used to be, though, could it? Phillip owned half of the circus, and by that definition, he was wealthier than the people who worked for him. That meant he lived differently. He wasn’t a snob and preferred mostly the simpler things in life, but it was still _different_ . As long as she chose to share her life with him, she’d be different, too. Of course she’d never be anything like Charity Barnum, who had been raised in a wealthy family. Instead she was a girl who’d had such few things to her name and who had suddenly been thrown into a world where there was much _more_ than what she was used to. Earning her own keep the same way the others did had been one thing- and even that had taken some time to get used to- but that had still been something both she and W.D. had always dared to dream of. Walking into the sunset with a kind, wealthy man had not. It was so ridiculous that some pathetic part of her was worried that he was growing sick of her and only still looked after her out of some sense of duty. 

After a nice, long bath, Anne brushed her hair and slipped into her nightgown before she set out to find Phillip. He wasn’t in bed yet, but sitting at his desk, murmuring something under his breath as he scribbled something on a drawing.

“Hey,” she greeted, setting a hand on the backrest of his chair. 

He turned to her, beaming even as he shoved the drawing under the rest of the papers on the desk. 

“Hi,” he replied, reaching for her hand to pull her to sit across his lap. 

“What were you working on?” She asked. Her arms slipped around his neck and her head tilted back as he leaned in for a kiss. 

“Nothing.”

“Should I be worried about that _nothing?_ ” She asked, hoping to keep the tone light. Yet she was worried, because he was keeping something from her, and was no longer sleeping beside her in his bed. 

“No, no reason to worry. To be honest, it’s a surprise,” he confessed sheepishly.

“Surprise?”

“For you.”

“When will I find out what it is?”

“Sometime next month, I hope. I promise it’s nothing to worry about, it’s all good.”

Leaning into his chest, she breathed in his scent happily, believing him. He had given her no reason to doubt him, after all, it was just her being stupid. If he wanted to surprise her with something, she could surely live with it, whatever it was. Still, she was curious and would now feverishly wonder what it was that he was up to. 

“Will you come to bed with me?” She asked, undoing the topmost buttons of his shirt. 

“When you put it like that, how could I say no?” Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bedroom. 

***

He really had to be more careful with the drawings in the future, or Anne would surely catch on with what he was planning. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he could promise her that _this_ would indeed be their house. The location was great, they would be within walking distance from the circus, have their own space, and what was most important, the neighbors would be mostly black.

In fact, based on his and W.D’s reconnaissance, Phillip would be the only white man on the street. That fact created a whole set of new complications and was understandably a cause for gossip and concern, but it he was willing to fight all those things. He’d promised her a life, and he was going to deliver.

Setting her on the bed, he moved to go to the bathroom and change.  
  
“Where are you going?” She asked, regarding him as she lay on her side, the twinkle in her eyes the one that always made him give into whatever she wanted.

Quickly, she was back on her feet, coming to stand in front of him.

“I was about to change,” he told her truthfully, as her hands traveled up his chest and began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“Can it wait?” She asked, her tone confident that she’d get what she wanted, which was of course true when it came to him.

“You know I’m not very good at saying no to you,” he sighed with a smile, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress and leaning back. 

She laughed, settling on top of him as he tried to control himself. Nothing mattered more than making her happy and comfortable, and as long as she was in charge, she wasn’t intimidated or nervous. It didn’t matter that he was now taking mostly cold baths on purpose. 

Reaching behind her head, he removed the pins keeping her hair up. The curls came down, cascading around his head like a waterfall. 

“You always do that,” she murmured between kisses. 

“I love the way it feels between my fingers, the way it smells... All of it.”

There had been a lot of exploring, and he loved every second of it. What he liked even more than that was he moment she curled up against his side and fell asleep. Having her trust him enough to show her vulnerable side was a gift he’d cherish for the rest of his days.

“I love you,” she said, her lips at his neck. 

“I love you more.”

Anne giggled, the lovely sound giving him goosebumps. ”We’re not having this talk again.”

Phillip chuckled. “Alright. Let’s talk about something else? Like, for example... Will you give me another chance to take you to the theater? For your birthday?”

Sagging against him, she sighed, clearly hesitating. 

“We won’t go unless you want to,” he promised.

Burying her bed against his bare chest, she sighed, but nodded. “Okay.”

“You don’t sound sure,” he noted. He wouldn’t mind simply spending time with her alone, but at the same time he wished to replace her terrible memories with better ones. 

“I do want to go. I really do, but I… I like it better when it’s just the two of us.”

“So that nobody can judge us, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“But hiding won’t make things better. The only way things will change is to make sure people get used to seeing us. We love each other, and if they can’t see that, eventually others will see how sick it is to wish us ill,” he argued.

“And before that they’ll make us pay,” she murmured. He was aware of what she was afraid of. She feared that they’d make _him_ pay, which was the thought she couldn’t stand. 

“I’d protect you with my life.”

“I know, it’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Anne-“

“Those people could kill you. What am I supposed to do then? How am I supposed to live?”

“Hey… We’ll be careful, _I’ll_ be careful. I promise. I’m not stupid,” he assured her, his palms rubbing circles on her back. 

“Sometimes I’m not sure about that,” she replied, offering a poor attempt at a joke. 

“I’m stupidly in love with you, that’s for sure.”

“Which is the root of the problem.”

“ _This_ will never be a problem for me,” he swore, pulling her close again for a kiss. 

***

Phillip would be lying if he insisted he wasn’t nervous as held Anne’s hand on their way home on her birthday. They were going home before heading to the theater for the night, and he had a small surprise for her before they left. It was nothing compared to the big one he and W.D.- one that might not even work out, he reminded himself- were still working on, but he still wondered if she’d like it. He’d seen the dress finished only once, worn by an inanimate mannequin, and he was certain it would be perfect on her. 

“You’re very quiet tonight,” she noted.

“I’m wondering if you’ll like my present,” he admitted.

Her eyes lit up. “There’s a present, too?”

“Of course there is.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

They went inside, where he retrieved the package from his closet.   
  
“Happy Birthday, my love,” he said. 

He watched her tear the package open carefully, and gasp as she touched the soft fabric. The dress itself was a mix of gold and cream colors, and according to Lettie it was every bit fit for a queen. 

“You… Phillip, I can’t believe you… This is… How did you even?” She turned to him, her eyes wide in delight and surprise.

“I did have some help, and we used the measurements from your show costumes. I hope it fits.”

“Am I supposed to wear this tonight?”

“Whatever you want. You will still be the most stunning woman in this city.”

“This dress is almost too nice to be worn at all,” she sighed.

He laughed. “It’s meant to be worn, my love.”

“Alright, I’ll put it on. Hold on.” She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him sitting on the bed. He took the opportunity to change into more appropriate attire. He would be damned if they weren’t the most well-dressed pair at the theater. 

Hearing the bathroom door creak open, he turned his head. 

“Phillip?”

“Yes?”

“I- I think I need some help with this.”

As she pivoted and showed him her back, he swallowed hard. Of course she’d need help putting it on. Taking a deep breath, he stepped over to her, most definitely not thinking about pushing the pesky thing off her entirely and reaffirming their connection in the only way it had not yet been done. His self control had become a source of pride for him after joining the circus, but living with Anne tested him every single day. It would’ve been easier if he wasn’t under the impression that she wouldn’t need much convincing. 

His fingers grazed the thin shift she had on under the new dress, her body heat reaching his hand through the material. Her neck was bare, and he took the opportunity to lean in and inhale her scent. _His woman, his home. God,_ he was lucky. 

“If you don’t kiss me there, I might die,” she joked.

“Can’t have that happen,” he whispered, indulging her wish, but he didn’t stop after a simple kiss. He kept suckling, moving up and down her neck and shoulders, while his hands moved inside her dress at the waist, wrapping around her. 

Her head lolled back to rest against him. _God, he shouldn’t be touching her like this._

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, pulling away just enough to gather his wits.

“For what?” She asked, breathless. 

“For getting distracted. I'm determined that you'll get to see _Joan of Arc_ entirely."

As he composed himself, he heard Anne mumble something under her breath, but decided against asking her what it was. It seemed unlikely to be anything that would aid him in leaving the apartment any faster.

***

Still trying to catch her breath, Anne was suddenly overcome with the urge to tell Phillip they could stay in that evening. As long as he promised to touch her again. 

Propriety had hardly anything to do with their relationship, at least as far as other people saw it, but in her opinion, things were often almost too proper. Although he showered her with affection, he didn’t try to seduce her. Sometimes that left her disappointed. 

By now he’d left her alone, turning his back to her as she got ready for the evening. The butterflies in her stomach were not entirely due to the good sort of excitement, but like she’d told Phillip, she _wanted_ a do-over. It was nice to think that they deserved the same rights as any other couple did, but she only tended to have faith in it when they were alone. 

“I’m ready,” she called out, finishing her makeup. 

“Excellent, we’ll be there with plenty of time to spare,” he replied before pivoting to her. 

As he stood behind her, she watched him through the mirror. He swallowed hard, blinking at her.

”Have I finally managed to make you speechless, Mr. Carlyle?” She teased, grinning at him. 

“This is not the first time,” he murmured. “I wasn’t prepared for this sight.”

“Well, we’d better go if we want to get there with time to spare, right?” 

Pushing the chair back, she smoothed down the skirt of the dress as she stood up. It was beautiful, like nothing she’d ever worn before. Lettie was right; the dress was fit for a queen.

Phillip was still frozen on his feet, a few feet away from her, but she stepped up to him with a smile and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you. You look rather handsome tonight, too. Let’s go,” she suggested, leaning her forehead against his. 

“Yes... Just so you know, I will not stop staring at you all night. I hope you can live with that,” he announced.

Kissing him, she laughed. “I don’t think _your_ stares will pose an issue.” 

***

People stared at them as they entered the theater, which Phillip had been expecting, but it caused Anne to hang onto his arm for dear life, signaling her discomfort. Perhaps this had been a mistake. 

“We can leave now if you want to,” he murmured as they ascended the stairs. There was no sight of his parents this time, at least, which in itself was an improvement.   
  
“No, it’s okay. I should’ve known they’d still stare at us... And whisper behind our backs.”

Smirking, that gave Phillip an idea. “You know,” he began slyly. “We could whisper behind their backs, too. I know quite a few embarrassing stories about many of these people.”

”You do?”

”Gossip is like currency around here, Anne. So you bet I know things about them that they wouldn’t want others to know.”

“Hmmmm... I guess I wouldn’t mind hearing a few things.”

Looking around them, he spotted a perfect first subject. David Russell.

”You see that man over there?” He asked, nodding in the older man’s direction.

”Yes.”

”He’s a business partner of my father’s. Or a former one, if we’re truthful, because he steals from everyone he does business with. Then he uses the money on opium.”

She nodded, not as scandalized as half of the young women here would’ve been, but at least she was thinking about something else besides people judging them. 

“And that lady over there? She can’t get a single person to work at their house.”

”Why’s that?”

“Because she thinks they should do the work for room and board. Now she has to do her own dishes and laundry, which is a true spice of shame in this company, as you can imagine.”

”Strange people.”

”You don’t know even half of it.”

”How did you ever do this?”

”With the power of a lot of whiskey,” he groaned.

Finding their seats, they prepared for the first act. He’d managed to get them seats on a private balcony, which at least at gave them some privacy, although they were certainly still exposed. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her knuckles. 

“Is that appropriate behavior in this setting, Mr. Carlyle?” She joked. 

“The men in these circles don’t show affection to their wives, but I’m not one of them. I never want to be one of them. So that depends on you. Do you think this is appropriate?”

Anne looked back at him, smiling. “I could get used to it, I guess.”

The realization that he’d basically called her his wife made his face burn in embarrassment. It wasn’t that he’d lied, because to him, she was as good as his wife. Still, it probably wasn’t something he had any business of saying at this point. God, he hadn’t even officially asked her to marry him!

He knew of her reservations and fears concerning it, but with every day that passed, he was more certain that it was what was needed. It would provide her with more safety if something happened to him. To him, the benefits far outweighed the risks. But even that wasn’t the whole truth, not even half of it. He was a romantic at heart, and wanted nothing but be able to call her his wife and have it be true. 

During the first act, Anne squeezed his hand every now and then, even as she was wholly engrossed with the play. 

***

During intermission, he guided her out, back where all the people who hated her were waiting for a chance to tear her apart. But even as she picked on her shawl, she forced her chin up and allowed Phillip to hold onto her arm.   
  
“Do you want a drink, my love?” He asked. 

Anne nodded. “I guess I could have one.”

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she was left alone, she felt like a caged animal, stared at by people who had no sympathy for her. Despite not hearing exactly what the whispers contained, she knew the gist of it. _How dare she?_ But she wouldn’t run, not this time. Phillip made her feel like a queen and she’d enjoyed her night so far, she wouldn’t give these people the power to get to her. 

“You are Anne Wheeler, aren’t you?” The voice that made Anne turn belonged to a beautiful redhead, her blue dress even more extravagant and expensive than her own. She was shorter than her, but still somehow seemed to be able to look down at her.

A smile was playing on the woman’s lips and someone else would’ve maybe taken it to be genuine, but Anne knew better. It reminded her of the wealthy, white young women her mother had waited on hand and foot. Insincere. 

“Yes, I am.” _And who are you?_

“I thought so. I’m Isabelle Rudolph.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Another woman, this one with fair hair, appeared beside Miss Rudolph. Her green eyes looked at Anne as if she was a sideshow, something to gawk at. 

“Oh, you found her,” said the blonde to her friend.

”Yes. Beverley, this is Anne Wheeler.”

”Beverley Black,” completed the newcomer.

”Lovely to meet you,” Anne muttered, holding onto her manners even as she wanted nothing more than for this encounter to come to an end. 

“How does it feel being here? This isn’t your first time, is it?” Asked Isabelle. 

“It is the first play I have seen,” she deflected. These women knew what had happened to her there before, perhaps they had even been there, laughing at her humiliation.

“It is quite unusual to not see Phillip out here, swarmed by admirers after another play.”

”Perhaps so.”

”I must say that I have been his companion in _many_ such occasions. Did you know that we were engaged?”

Her dinner was about to reappear, and she must have looked like it, because the redhead grinned at her. God, she wanted to slap that smirk off her face for deliberately wishing to upset her. And Anne, being the fool she was, had walked right into it. _Was this true?_

”Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Asked Beverley, the concern in her face coming across as mocking.

”It’s not ladylike to gossip about men in this manner, but I do know Phillip _quite_ well,” claimed Isabelle.

She still hadn’t recovered from the first blow, and now there was _more_. In order to miss out on what this woman was implying, she’d have had to be extremely thick. Although she was willing to accept being called many things, stupid wasn't one of them. It shouldn't have mattered to her that Phillip may have... Been with this woman, but it did. She was horrible, and Phillip wasn't. He was also hers, or so she sometimes wanted to think. 

Pretending that they hadn’t thoroughly wrecked her self confidence, Isabelle examined her cuticles, unbothered.

“How is Phillip faring these days, by the way?” She asked.

”He- he is well.” Not that it was this woman’s business. 

“Truly? Well, I guess he must be, since you are _still_ here. I imagine that a circus owner must be paid rather handsomely, at least compared to many other white men in your circles.”

Anne blinked, the realization paralyzing her. _These women thought Phillip was paying her._ Shaking with embarrassment and anger, she stomped out without another word, without caring where Phillip was. She considered running away completely, but forced herself to remain on the street, in front of the building. Running away wouldn’t solve anything. She’d made the decision to be with him, she didn’t get to leave the second things got hard. Breathing deeply, she tried to clear her mind.

Was it embarrassing that she didn’t really know how to handle this type of hatred? It was easier when they called you names to your face or settled on staring, but those women had taken carefully planned jabs at all the points she felt the least confident with. The points that made her wonder if she was really good enough for this. W.D. would lose it if she told him she ever thought that way, but he didn’t understand. He and their mom had done their best to teach her to value herself, everything she was... And she did, but when so few other people agreed, how could she never falter?

Luckily, Phillip found her soon. 

“Hey. What’s wrong?” 

“Did you know that the people in there think I’m a prostitute?” She asked, anger, shock and humiliation bleeding into her tone. 

The silence on his end said everything she needed to know. “How could you not tell me before bringing me here?” She hissed.

“I was hoping the rumor was no longer going around. I tried telling them-“

“When are you going to realize that nothing we say or do is going to change what they think?” She interrupted, her heart pounding as it broke. 

“Anne, we weren’t even together when I found out, alright?” He replied defensively.

“So you thought telling me wasn’t important? That I shouldn’t know that dozens of people are convinced I’m selling myself?” She knew her shame was in a way irrational, because this wasn’t anything she shouldn’t have seen coming. 

“I’m really sorry,” he said quietly, still remaining somewhat infuriatingly calm although he could tell his apology was genuine. 

“That’s just not enough, you know,” she sobbed. 

He nodded, looking like he was on the verge of tears himself. “I see. I wish there was more I could say, Anne.”

“I’m going to the circus, I can sleep in my trailer. If it's alright with you, I'll come by tomorrow to pick up my property."

In the dim lighting offered by the streetlights, Phillip looked devastated, and pale as a corpse, reminding her of the sight of him lying in bed, at death's door because he loved her. Her breath caught in her throat, forcing her angry words down. _Too far. She was taking this too far._ At the same time the _other_ words of that woman boiled inside of her like a disease waiting to take control of her. 

She watched him gasp for air, fear and panic in his gaze, but the words were out now and she didn’t know how to fix it without making up with him. He still hadn’t said anything, hadn’t begged her forgiveness. Despite all the evidence she had of what she meant to him, she didn’t know what this meant.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned her back to him and began to walk off. At first she didn’t think he was following, but then she heard his heavier stride behind her. Yet he said nothing, didn’t yell at her to wait. When she realized he wasn’t following her to change her mind, but to protect her, it somehow made her feel worse, prompting the decision to run. 

***

He should’ve calmed her down enough to convince her to let him pay for a carriage, but when she began striding away from him, there was no going back. So he fell in step behind her, keeping around ten to twenty steps away. A respectful distance, but he could still interfere if a threat arose. That was despite W.D insisting that he still hit like a woman. Her words reverberated in his mind, but he refused to focus on them for the time being. It was too late for a young woman to walk these streets on her own, especially one who would catch say too much attention from any drunkard. 

Suddenly she took off running, and it took less than a minute for him to lose her. After a cursory search for her in the nearby streets turned out empty, he walked to the circus, hoping to make sure Anne had arrived safely. Sure enough, the light in her trailer was on, and it had not been earlier that night when they’d left. Now satisfied that no harm would come to her, he walked home. 

Life had been too good recently, Phillip concluded as he shut the apartment door behind himself that night. Anne and he hadn't had many fights, only small spats and disagreements that neither one of them had taken very seriously. This time was different. She was gone, and although she'd seemed to hesitate after telling him she'd come for her belongings later, he had no idea if this was the end for them as far as she was concerned. 

The chance that she would decide he wasn’t what she wanted had always been there, but all things considered, he thought they had been proven to be a good match so far. Maybe he had been wrong and had somehow missed out on her unhappiness. It was difficult to believe that she would walk away from him for merely this misstep. He had made a mistake, and he should’ve told her before taking her there, but it had not been deliberate. To be truthful, the stupid rumor had not even been on his mind earlier than night. He’d been inebriated, Anne’s closeness being his substance of choice. 

There was nothing to be done but wait now, was there? Go to work in the morning and hope she loved him enough to give him another chance. 

Not bothering to undress entirely, he took off his shoes and jacket, and removed his bow tie before getting into bed. With Anne’s clothes still in his closet next to his and her hairbrush on the vanity, he could still pretend his world wasn’t falling apart. 

***

The rest of the night was hell for her. Anne couldn’t stop thinking about Phillip alone in their- _his-_ apartment. Her words had clearly cut him deep, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him she forgave him and that she hadn’t meant it. Sure, she was still angry, but mostly frustrated, and even the anger wasn’t about him, but the people spreading those rumors. If only he’d told her! She would’ve at least been more prepared, and wouldn’t have looked as big of a fool as she had. Why was it so hard for him to see that she didn’t want him to protect her from things like this? How could they make this work if he kept such secrets from her? 

The longer she thought about it, the more she calmed down and the better she understood. Phillip was scared, like she was. He was scared she’d give up on them. And now she had left and run. Not far and not permanently, but did he know that? Did he know how strongly tied to him she was? 

Fortunately she hadn’t bothered to remove most of her clothes, so it was an easy enough task to rise from the bed and pull her coat on. She briefly considered waking up W.D. to walk her home, but decided against it. Her brother had earned his sleep. She’d be fine, as long as she was careful. 

The sounds emanating from the darkened alleys and street corners made her jump as she walked as quietly as possible, but she was determined. She’d been so so stupid. 

The apartment was dark when she pulled the door open. Phillip must be asleep. 

Keeping as quiet as possible, she found her way to the bedroom.

“Anne?” He asked. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Can I- can I sit down?” She asked.

“Of course.” 

She found the bed in the dark, sitting down next to him. 

“I’m sorry, Phillip.”

“No, I’m-“

“You already apologized. I know you’re sorry and you know why I was so angry. But I was… I was too angry. I- I didn’t mean it.”

“Alright,” he relented, relieved. “I won’t apologize again. Do you need anything? Tea, maybe?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I can make you some, since I need to get one for myself.”

“Fine, I’ll have a cup.”

He turned the lights on and left the room, allowing her to have a moment to herself. Everything in the room looked just the way it had before they’d left. 

As he returned, he set the teacups on the bedside table before kneeling on the floor in front of her and placing a hand on her knee.

“Did you walk back here alone?” He asked, the question careful, but she heard the worry in his tone.

”I did, but I stayed out of sight. You know I’m pretty good at that.”

”I do know that,” he admitted quietly. He looked so worn out that she reached out and cupped his cheek. 

He pressed his head onto her lap in response, sighing happily when her fingertips grazed his neck, followed by her lips. 

“Come here, my darling,” she said, pulling him on the bed with her. “I missed you,” she continued.

“I missed you too. So much. I know it was only for a few hours, but…”

“I know. I know. I haven’t slept at all.”

“Me neither.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“You said you needed to be alone. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not used to having many permanent people or things in my life… It scares me sometimes. I’m still learning.”

“So am I. Just different things. I think we should learn them together.”

She smiled. “I want that too. Do you- do you still want all those things you’ve talked about?” The question probably didn’t make sense to him, and she hated herself for asking for the reassurance, for needing it. 

“Why wouldn’t I? Because we had a fight, which was totally my fault? I can tell you what I want every single day, if that’s what you need. I’ll keep saying it until you believe it,” he swore. 

Wanting to touch more of him, she pressed herself closer, enjoying the warmth he still had compared to her after her brisk walk in the cool air. 

“I love you, Phillip. I don’t... I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admitted truthfully.

He said nothing, but his hand reached out for hers to thread his fingers between hers.

***

“They said something else, too,” she said later, as they lay together in the darkness and sleep still evaded them both. “I was focused on just one thing earlier.”

“Oh? What did they say?” He asked. Perhaps these other things had played a part in how angry she had been. His body tensing, he wondered what else she had been told to poison her against him.

“It’s nothing, really. Nothing that I should’ve been surprised to hear.”

“Can you be a little more specific than that?” 

“Well, I did not know that you were engaged to one of them.”

“Isabelle Rudolph?”

“Yes.”

Wow. Phillip chuckled, but quickly stopped as he realized how much this lie bothered Anne. “Look, no. That’s not true. We were never engaged. Yes, our parents wanted it to happen, but I never agreed to it. Now that I think about it, I recall telling my mother that if my choices were either having Isabelle as my wife and not marrying at all, I’d rather stay single for the rest of my life. She was quite upset with me for the next few weeks.”

“So she was lying?” Her voice sounded small, but hopeful too.

“Yes, she was. She’s always been mean, Anne.”

“She said… Something else, too,” she continued, even more hesitant now than before.

“What?”

“She said she knew you… Intimately.”

At least this time he managed to quell his laughter. Never before had lies and rumors about him bothered him much, but now that they had such an effect on Anne, he was no longer amused. “I never even kissed her.” He had kissed many women, but Isabelle Rudolph hadn’t been attractive to him even when he’d barely been able to stay on his feet. 

Anne’s hand relaxed in his slightly, but she was now on her side, apparently trying to see his face.

“Is there… Something else you want to ask me specifically, or should I just tell you what I’ve done and what’s never taken place?” He finally asked, sighing. It was best to get this over with. In fact, it was somewhat surprising that this had not been brought up before. 

“You can tell me whatever you want.”

“Alright. I _did_ pass out on the stage at the after party of one of my plays. On more than one night. I also tripped on the stairs of the theater and roll all the way down. This happened more than once, too. I got sick on the mayor-“

At hearing this, Anne covered her mouth with a hand. Phillip wasn’t sure if she was about to laugh or cry. He felt like laughing at himself, now that that part of his life was over for good. 

“I also had a different woman at my arm on most evenings, but there was a reason for that… I never took it very far with any of them. I was stupid, but not _that_ stupid. I didn’t want to make promises I could never keep, or use them. And when I _was_ that stupid, it still didn’t happen,” he revealed, certainly avoiding going into the embarrassing details of his former life. 

Her hand came up to cup his cheek, her eyes narrowing. “So, does that mean-“

“Yes, I am very inexperienced in one particular regard,” he murmured. “If my former so-called friends knew the truth, I’d be the laughing stock of every party.” That meant nothing to him now, especially when his Anne was beaming at him, pulling him closer for a kiss.

“Now _that_ is surprising,” she said. 

“You don’t want to hear the explanation,” he groaned.

“Oh, I think I do.”

“Let’s just say that when you have too much to drink, it makes it difficult to do certain things.”

Anne chuckled. “I see. I never imagined that you’d ran into that… _Problem…_ But it’s all good. Lucky me, then.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her lips landing on his. 

***

Things heated up faster than usual this time as Phillip rolled on top of her, his mouth exploring her neck. Their fight must have taken its toll on him in this manner too, and she couldn’t say she minded. If only she could see his face... Anne shivered as he placed a hand on her hip, the other one wrapping around her waist to draw her flush against his chest. Yes, the last part of what he told her had taken her by surprise, but she liked the thought of becoming the first woman to know him like this.

The lying socialites meant nothing to her, and she figured they were jealous of her. Phillip loved _her._ She had never had anything to be envied, so even the idea felt laughable, but as she arched her body against his and heard him moan into her mouth, she understood.

For all her life she had lacked many things, and as a child even believed that the lives of rich people had to be happy, but now, so many years later, she knew the truth. Those people rarely had what she did: a brother who would do anything to protect her, loyal friends instead of people interested in you for the sake of money or status, and most of all, she had a man whose love for her was fierce and unconditional, who wanted nobody else. He told her she was his world and she hung onto those words. 

Almost accidentally, her fingers brushed against the bulge in his trousers. He yelped, his hand covering hers on his thigh. Anne raised her head to meet his eyes. They were hooded, glimmering with contained desire, his breathing labored.

Removing his hand from hers, she touched him again, just running her finger up and down though the fabric. His head fell to the side, his eyes closing. Watching his reactions excited her, easing her nervousness. None of this felt all that scary to her anymore. Sure, there was a knot low in her belly, but it was one of anticipation and excitement. She loved trying out new moves on the trapeze, and this felt a bit like that. 

“This is inappropriate,” he groaned against her neck.

“It’s only us here, Phillip,” she whispered. People already assumed things about their relationship anyway... 

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“I can’t do this now.”

“Why?”

“Because I have plans. For us. The ones we were discussing earlier," he clarified. “Is is- is it that you don’t want it?”

“What I want has _never_ mattered, Phillip, you still don't understand that,” she explained, exasperated, the mood entirely gone now.

“It matters now, and it matters to me. I know it doesn’t solve all our problems, but I want to make things easier for you… For any children we may have. I know you’re scared-“

“I don’t think you do, that’s the problem,” she sighed, no longer angry. As much as they loved each other, he would never see the world entirely from her point of view. 

“Make me understand, then.”

Turning away from him, she stared out the window, into the darkness of the winter night. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me and realize you made a terrible mistake. You can still go back now, but it’d be more complicated if we were legally married.”

He scrambled out of bed, turning the lights on. “Anne, look at me,” he pleaded.

She wiped at her eyes, making herself face him.

“I don’t think there’s anything you can say to convince me that it’s a _good_ idea. It’s a beautiful dream, but that’s all it is.”

“So you would say no if I asked, then?”

She couldn’t lie, not this time. “I... I can’t say that.”

“You want to be my wife, that’s all that matters. There’s no going back for me, Anne, never in a million years. I could never look at you with regret, except if I didn’t do right by you.”

He was right, she did want to be his wife, more than anything else in this world. So she nodded. “You’re pretty wonderful, did you know that?” She said, flashing him a weary smile. 

“Does that mean you’ll agree to marry me _when_ I ask you?”

Closing her eyes, she smiled. “I think you already know the answer.” 

***

Snow was drifting to the ground that late December morning when Lettie interrupted her and W.D's practice to tell them that Barnum had asked for everyone to gather round. Apparently he had news. 

"Do you know what this could be about?" Asked her brother as they waited for Barnum to show up.

Anne shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Your boy hasn't told you anything?"

"Nope, he hasn't mentioned anything. And he's not a boy, W.D. He's almost as old as you," she replied, rolling her eyes. She really had absolutely no clue what this could be about, and what was even stranger was that Phillip was nowhere to be seen. Despite the time he spent staring at the circus's paperwork, he was still often present for announcements and even rehearsals. The others looked worried, murmuring amongst themselves more quietly than usually, but Anne was confident. Phillip would've told her if something terrible was happening, or she would've noticed it from his behavior. He'd been his usual, good-natured self this morning when she'd last seen him.

"But I'm sure it's nothing bad," she told W.D. 

"Let's hope you're right."

"Sorry I kept you waiting, I had to send Phillip to run a few errands!" Exclaimed Barnum, now standing before them, grinning widely. 

"What's happening, why are we standing here?" Asked Charles.

"Right. Let's get to the point. This will be my last night as ringmaster,” he revealed. Anne saw many brows lift at the news. It wasn’t exactly expected, but it wasn’t unexpected either. “That doesn’t mean I won’t be around, but there are things outside this place that I want to be present for. _People_ I want to be present for.” So this was about his family. It was hard not to approve of that reason.

“You've chosen a new ringmaster, then?” Asked W.D.

“I have, in fact. Phillip will take over, assuming he accepts the position.”

Anne covered her mouth with her hand. _Of course._ Who else could it be besides Phillip?

“I’m sure he will,” she piped up, nodding at Barnum.

“Good choice,” added Lettie.

It hadn’t even come true yet, but Anne already felt like bursting with pride. These people had already grown to like Phillip over the course of the months he’d worked there, but now that they could see the two of them together, they liked him even more. They saw what she saw in him, although she would always remain convinced that nobody would ever know him the way she did. She didn’t _want_ them to, either. Some parts of him were hers, and hers only. 

“Can I trust that everyone in this room will be capable of keeping this a secret until I tell him tonight?” Asked Barnum, his eyes soon zeroing in on Anne. She wanted to roll her eyes, but thought better of it. The man had been listening more recently than before the fire, and she and Phillip had even been to his house for dinner, but he still hadn’t earned her full trust. That was reserved for people like Lettie, and especially her brother and the man she loved. 

“It won’t be a problem,” she swore. 

And it really was not. Not even when he gave her a kiss for good luck before the show and she couldn’t help giving him a stupid smile. 

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, frowning at her.

“I’m happy. Does there have to be a reason other than that?”

“No, I’m glad you’re happy, especially if I’m the reason for it. I was only wondering if there was a particular reason.”

She chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”

***

Phillip had never viewed himself as someone who belonged in front of an audience. He _liked_ working in the background. Yet he didn’t hesitate when Barnum offered him the top hat. Accepting the job felt right, the way joining had felt back then so many months ago. Like being with Anne felt right. Those were his people on the stage, every single one of them. And there was his love. He knew the routine by heart, he watched it almost every night after all. After the show he could make sure everyone accepted him as the new ringmaster, but for now they had an audience, and it was time to entertain.

He knew the words to the song, and hopefully didn’t look out of place with his half-improvised dance moves. He didn’t dance like Barnum after all, but did he really have to? Anne landed beside him, taking a spot that wasn’t her regular one, and that was when the idea hit him. This was their home, and he wanted everyone to know what it was that he felt for her. If people didn’t want to see it, they could always choose not to come back. They wouldn’t be run back into the shadows by people whose opinions didn’t matter. 

Filled with excitement and happiness, he took her hand, taking her away from the rest of the troupe before pulling her into his arms. She gave him a brief look of surprise and her body stiffened, but then it all changed: she relaxed against him and looked at him with a lovely smile, _trusting him._ He returned her smile, removing the hat as her hand slid up to his neck. Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers, deliberately keeping the kiss light and sweet. Getting lost in her, he barely heard the cheers and the jeers of their audience. He leaned his nose against hers, hoping to convey the important messages. _I love you. I will protect you. I will always be here._

This was a part of his happy ending, of their happy ending. There was still plenty of work to be done, and after listening to Anne's worries, he doubted it would ever really end, but he was more of a fighter than he used to give himself credit for. He'd never believed himself to be a particularly good man, but for some reason Anne saw him as worthy of her. In order to be the man she needed, he had to be much better than he used to be, better than he was even now. 

***

One night in mid March, Anne couldn’t find Phillip anywhere after the show. Nobody confessed to seeing him or knowing where he was, and what was even more frustrating, her brother was missing, too! Huffing, she figured they had to be doing this on purpose. After changing her clothes, she pushed the door of her trailer open angrily, smacking W.D. in the head.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were there!” She apologized.

“Owww!” He moaned, rubbing his forehead. “I told him this wasn’t a good idea,” he then murmured.

“What’s not a good idea?”

W.D. grinned. “Not talking to you directly.”

“Where is he?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, so I won’t. But he gave me this for you to read.” 

Anne accepted the envelope from him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. _Was this the surprise that Phillip had been preparing for months?_ And her brother had been in on it the whole time?

“Come on, read it,” coaxed W.D. impatiently.

Her hands shook in anticipation as she unfolded the paper, some part of her insisting that something enormous was happening.

_Dear Anne,_

_I am sorry for disappearing on you, but I wanted this to be a surprise. Hopefully W.D. found you soon enough._

_There is a carriage waiting for you on the street to bring you where I am. Please dress in anything you wish to, it will be just the two of us tonight, for what I hope will be a celebration._

_I have far more to say than this, but I believe you should hear them in person._

_My whole life has led to this moment, and despite the things that I regret, I am happy to be where I am. You have already made me the happiest man in the world, and I want to give you the best I can for the rest of my life. Perhaps you can now tell what it is that I will speak to you about. If it is what you want, all you have to do is step in that carriage._

_Yours forever,_

_Phillip_

Tears burned in her eyes when she raised her eyes from the handwriting and looked at her brother. He smiled back at her encouragingly. "So, are you going?" He asked.

Laughing through her tears, she nodded. "I'm going to change, and then you can show me the way."


End file.
